


Balloons and stars blown in on the Eastern Wind

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Mary Poppins (Movies)
Genre: Aromantic, Bisexual Male Character, Children, Complete, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Is Gay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Great Depression, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Inanimate Objects, Leerie speak, Lesbian Character, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Movie: Mary Poppins Returns, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 11:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24470011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: The East Wind is blowing when Jane breaks up with Jack then invites him to dinner at 17 Cherry Tree Lane.
Relationships: Jane Banks/Original Character(s), Jane Banks/Original Female Character(s), Michael Banks/Jack
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really do like Jack and Jane's relationship, it was pure and cute and all things lovely.
> 
> Then this plot bunny came out of nowhere and attacked like The Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog. I didn't stand a chance.

The wind blew through the park, teasing at the fallen leaves and the hem of Jane's trousers. She smiled at the sight of swirling leaves, her smile fading when she heard the ring of Jack's bike bell. Jane inhaled deeply, steeling herself for what she was about to do.

She loved Jack, she truly did, but it was the sort of love that she felt for her brother and not a lover. She was determined not to hurt him - it was her and not him - if only for the children's sake. Annabel, John, and Georgie adored Jack and Jane didn't want him to leave their lives just because she ended their relationship.

Jane had negotiated hundreds of contracts for SPRUCE, staring down old men who didn't want to part with their money. If she could do that, then she could do this without hurting either of them as well.

She hoped.

...

Jack wasn't surprised that Jane had broken up with him. He was surprised that she had invited him to dinner at 17 Cherry Tree Lane that same evening, as though nothing had changed. He had wanted to decline the offer, but Jane had continued and talked about how excited the children would be to see him, and he couldn't let them down. They both knew it, too.

He found himself agreeing and Jane had smiled as brightly as the sun. She had kissed his cheek and they had parted ways. Jack had wandered the park and city, his feet taking him through familiar paths until he ended up in an alley he had only noticed once before.

Topsy had greeted him with a brief smile and worry etched on her face. It was a second Wednesday, and while she had a new perspective, sometimes it was still a bad news day. Not even Mary could change that. Jack found himself spilling words to Topsy's listening ear, a shot of vodka sitting in front of him untouched.

Jack told her everything as though she could mend his broken heart along with the items on her shelves and in her store, but even he knew that was impossible. Topsy had tutted and patted his hand. The only advice she had given was to see what was truly there in front of him. It didn't make a lick of sense, but he supposed it was better than needles and thread.

Jack took his shot, coughing as it slid and burned down his throat. He thanked Topsy Turvey for the advice and the vodka, which was still burning an hour later as he did his rounds.

He lit the last lamp and went to the small apartment that he shared with Angus - and other leeries, depending on whether they got paid that week or needed somewhere to sleep - so he could make himself presentable for dinner at 17 Cherry Tree Lane.

He looked up at the sky, remembering a time when he'd been up among those clouds, and let the light lead his way.

...

Michael didn't mind that Jane had invited Jack for dinner, of course. He did mind that she had broken up with the poor man only hours before. _Who knew what Jack would be feeling? He probably felt as lost as he had after Kate_.

Determined to make sure Jack was all right with all of this before he joined his family for dinner, Michael sent Jane and the children to help Ellen cook. _Or, more likely, cook while Ellen rested her feet_.

The Admiral's cannon fired to mark the hour. Michael thumped his desk to return everything to its rightful place and continued with his drawing. His artwork was hung around the house now, and he found it helped remind him of his own feelings. The painting with the bright blue sky filled with balloons and a solitary green kite brought nostalgia and childlike glee every time Michael looked at it, though he couldn't always remember why. The painting of cherry trees in bloom - their house tucked in the background for those who knew where to look - made him think of spring and Mary Poppins.

The knock at the door had him standing and calling out to his family that he would answer. From the noise coming from the kitchen, Michael doubted they had heard him or the knock. He answered the door, Jack standing there, freshly washed and smiling as though he might break.

Michael ushered him inside and over to his study. Jack had rarely entered Mr. Banks' study and was surprised - for the second time that day - to see artwork hanging on the walls and sitting among more expensive and sentimentally priceless trinkets. The ones on the walls weren't hung straight - Jack was sure the Admiral was to thank for that - and he looked at each one in interest. The balloons and kite in the sky made him smile, broad and genuine, and he looked to Mr. Banks at his sharp intake of breath.

"Are you all right, Mr. Banks?"

"Call me Michael. Mr. Banks was my father," Michael added with a smile.

"All right. Are you all right, Michael?"

Michael's smile disappeared like the moon hiding behind clouds. "I'm fine, Jack. I meant to ask you that. Jane told me what happened. Are you okay? If you don't want to be here, the children will understand. I can give you food so you don't go away hungry, of course, and - "

"I'm... a birthday, Michael."

Michael blinked at the response. Then smiled again, the rhyming concept all too familiar. Georgie and the twins had practically invented their own language with leerie speak, and he'd had to catch on fast or be left behind. Some days he felt like he was sinking like a lead balloon. "You're okay. You're sure of it? I don't want you to feel obligated."

Jack felt a little lighter in his chest that Michael had understood him. Jane had always looked at him and given a giggle when he'd spoken leerie in front of her, then waited for him to translate.

"Dinner's ready!" Annabel called loudly, stopping in the doorway with flour dusting her hair. She lit up when she saw Jack and ran over to hug him tightly. "When did you arrive? I'm so glad you're here, Jack."

"Arrived at a hive," Jack said with a grin.

"It's quarter past five now. Has Father offered you a drink?" Annabel asked, looking at him and reminding him of Kate so much that he was breathless for a moment.

Jack laughed and Michael remembered how to breathe once more, and he looked at the man who shook his head. Jack winked at Annabel. "I wanted to bait."

"You don't mind waiting until dinner is served, then? Ellen's insisting but Georgie is helping."

"I'll take Jack to the dining room. You go help. I mean, yelp," Michael said, feeling as though he was falling as Annabel grinned at his sorry attempt.

Annabel nodded and was out of the study as fast as she'd arrived.

Jack watched after her then smiled at Michael, the painting of balloons behind his head, a kite peeking over a mess of black curled hair. "I can give you a lesson in leerie if you'd like?"

"Oh, that would be helpful. Thank you, Jack," Michael said in relief, the lead feeling lighter at the offer.

"Happy to... yelp," Jack said with his first genuine laugh that day, letting Michael lead him to the dining room.

...

Dinner wasn't as awkward as it could have been. With Jack caught up in trying to teach Michael leerie, the children chiming in with their own rhymes, and everyone trying to get Ellen to stop whatever she was attempting to do with a bucket and umbrella at this time of night, Jane had barely a moment to feel sorry for herself. She thought that Jack would be all right, he still had an abundantly large group of friends. All she had was SPRUCE and her union. They weren't exactly friends, not in the way that mattered after a break-up. No matter who had done the breaking, it still hurt.

The leeries all gave her a nod on their way home, so either Jack hadn't told them or they didn't judge her for it.

"Ah, here we are. You didn't have to walk me all the way here, Jane. You're a good'un," Ellen said, patting her hand.

Jane smiled and focused her attention on Ellen once more. The poor dear had claimed she was going to her sister's, only to start walking down the wrong road. Jane had offered to walk with her, stating she needed the fresh air.

Thankfully, Ellen hadn't said a word about Jack while they walked, and Jane had kept herself occupied by talking over her latest rally speech. While she hadn't exactly told Ellen about breaking up with Jack, she suspected the housekeeper knew it from her conversation with Michael; the door had been opened a crack and Ellen was dusting, a chore she loathed and avoided at all costs. Michael didn't seem to mind since it cost him more to repair the items she dusted anyway.

"Why don't you come in, dear? My sister hasn't seen you in ages. She has her daughter over, too. You remember young Henrietta, don't you?"

Jane smiled and nodded. She hadn't seen Henrietta since they were both young and in pigtails. Henrietta had gone abroad to study, using her deceased father's money to travel once she was of age. It would be nice to catch up with an old friend and hear about her adventures. It was far better than spending the night alone and wondering if she'd done the right thing. "I do. I'd love to come in and say hello. You're sure your sister won't mind my company at this hour?"

"Helen? Oh, dearie, she'll be champing at the bit to hear all about you and that handsome lamplighter's break up. I mean... if you had broken up with him, of course."

Jane sighed and forced herself to smile. "Of course, Ellen. I'll detail it once and then we're not to discuss it again, agreed?" she asked, her tone hard as if she were negotiating a wage increase.

Ellen grinned. "You have my word. In fact, you can have my whole vocabulary! I'll keep Helen quiet," she said with a sound that was almost a cackle of glee.

Jane followed Ellen inside where Helen and Henrietta were talking.

"Oh, there's young Miss Jane. It is still Miss, isn't it?" Helen asked, looking at her finger.

"Of course it's Miss! She broke up with him this morning in the park, then invited him to dinner anyway," Ellen said. "At least, that's my guess," she added, glancing at Jane.

Jane, who was staring at Henrietta, and wondering why she had never felt like this with Jack. _He was handsome, sure, but Henrietta was breathtaking. Was that the word or was there another way to describe the pounding of her heart and the heat pooling in her stomach?_ She pressed her hands over her stomach, as though to contain that heat, and forced herself to smile as all three women looked at her in concern.

"I'm fine. I did break up with Jack in the park and invited him to dinner. We're better as friends," Jane said, the words all in a rush, and turned to face Henrietta properly, hoping she wasn't red in the cheeks like she felt. "Hello, Henrietta. It's lovely to see you again. How have you been?" she asked, almost desperate for the change in subject.

Henrietta smiled at Jane. "It's lovely to see you, too, Jane. You're all grown up."

"Now, dear. Tell me more about this break up of yours," Helen said, patting the love seat beside her.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Ellen cried, almost lunging across the room to clamp her hand around her sister's mouth. "She already said her words, Helen. That's enough."

Helen and Henrietta both stared at Ellen in surprise. Jane couldn't stop herself and giggled at the sight. She wondered if she could commission Michael to draw it.

Henrietta looked over to her at the noise and laughed as well, making her mother tug Ellen's hand away and laugh, making Ellen laugh as well. As they laughed and laughed and laughed Jane wondered if they'd float up to the ceiling.

_But that was ridiculous, of course_.

...

Angus was waiting for Jack when he returned home, a querying expression on his face when he saw Jack looking awfully happy for someone who had his heart broken. "Come on, Jack. Give us your weep and wail."

Jack sighed. "Nothing to tell, Angus."

Angus made a sound that would have made Mary Poppins herself raise an eyebrow in disappointment, but it conveyed his disbelief nonetheless.

"Mary Poppins would make you posh with hope," Jack said, grinning.

"She already washed it out with soap when I was a lad. Couldn't do that again," Angus said, wrinkling his nose. "Now, weep and wail, let's hear it."

Jack felt like it had happened weeks ago, not mere hours, and wasn't exactly anticipating reliving it. Still, he would shine on. Those kids were near and dear to him, and Mr. Banks - Michael - was still tripping his tongue on leerie, so he wouldn't be as far away from the Banks family as he might like after a break-up. "Miss Jane broke up with me in the park this morning. Said she couldn't love me the way I deserved. Then she invited me to dinner and used the kids as a way to get me to agree. They found out from Ellen, apparently, but seem to be okay with it all. Michael - "

"Oh, it's _Michael_ now, is it?"

Jack felt his cheeks turn red. _He might've spoken about Michael and Jane a lot when he was younger, and Mr. Banks and Jane now that he was older, and not all of the conversations were focused on Jane completely. He just... he felt an odd kinship with the man who'd lost his wife, especially as a man who'd lost everyone he loved as well. Kids with families didn't get apprenticed to chimney sweeps, after all_.

"Go on, then. What's this about Michael?" Angus asked, knees drawn to his chest and waiting for more.

Jack groaned. "I need to tumble down the sink."

Angus reached behind him and grabbed a drink, offering it to Jack with a grin. "Three rungs aheada ya, mate."

...

  
End of the first chapter.

I hope you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

Considering Jane had broken up with Jack almost three weeks ago now, Michael was a little surprised to realise that he'd seen more of the man than he had before that particular event. Jane was coming over less now, her days busy with rallies and SPRUCE and her evenings busy with Henrietta, Ellen's niece. There was a giddiness to Jane's step that not even Father or Mary Poppins herself could have quashed.

Labour unions, trousers, being friends - _or more, by the look of things_ \- with other women, Michael didn't care what made Jane happy so long as she was happy. It was a decision he had made when they were much younger, just as firm as the decision to give his tuppence to Father. _If something made someone happy, why deny them that happiness?_ He firmly believed it was this theory that had led him to Kate and would never regret it.

Still, he was glad for the leerie's company and found as time passed that he was relying on Jack more as days at the bank got longer. Jack would take the children on his bike, the twins on each side of his ladder with Georgie in the basket, while on his rounds. They spoke about their mini adventures as mini leeries over dinner, the conversation harder to follow than some of the banking ledgers he saw, but at least more enjoyable.

After dinner, Ellen would set off for her sister's and Michael would bathe the children, though he had started to let Annabel handle bathing duties as she seemed to be able to encourage her brothers to bathe far more effectively than he could. (Michael swore he heard something about dolphins and pirate ships, but that could have been more leerie for all he knew.) Then he'd put the children to bed, often with a song or a story, and begging off an encore. The rest of the evening was in his study with Jack as he attempted to learn leerie speak, just so he could understand his own children.

He often wondered if his parents had felt the same way, often bewildered and confused by what he and Jane had spoken about, especially so during and after Mary Poppins. Perhaps it was a blessing that the children hadn't learnt the word supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. (Michael knew he was tired when he contemplated telling them, complete with song.)

Jack grinned at Michael's argument for hope and soap versus pope and cope. He wondered if it would be wrong to mention how adorable he looked ( _restorable he cooked_ ) because Michael got this bright light in his eyes when he was passionate that made Jack think of the beloved moon.

" ... I'm an artist, not a poet."

"Poetry is an art," Jack countered.

"It is when you say it," Michael said, exasperated.

Jack smiled broadly. "Well, thank you."

Michael laughed. "You should write and I'll draw it. Deal?" he asked, holding out a hand.

Jack shook his hand, his hand warm and broad and lingering. "Deal... cycle."

Michael laughed again, feeling light as a balloon. "All right. I think that's enough leerie for tonight. Don't you, track?"

The Admiral and Big Ben sounded loudly - the noise was barely noticed by the two men - but several ornaments made their presence known, Michael's eyes widening as he leaned over to grab the lamp. Jack had reached for the picture frames on the coffee table, and they were in an awkward and compromising position. Michael didn't truly care though because in this position he could feel Jack's warm hand splayed on his thigh. They tried to rearrange their bodies and keep their dignities intact, barely managing the former, but Michael doubted they had achieved the latter.

"Thank you. For saving the photos. They're priceless," Michael said, his voice caught in his throat even though he didn't truly understand why.

"Of course. They're your family," Jack said, his voice rough and eyes warm.

His hand was still resting on Michael's thigh, but he didn't dare move or even breathe too loudly in case that disturbed the fragile peace surrounding them.

"I... " Michael had no idea what to say or do or feel because all he could hear was his heart pounding.

_ Maybe he was coming down with an illness? That would explain why he suddenly felt so hot, surely? _

"Daddy!"

"Georgie," Michael said, already off the lounge and starting up the stairs as his brain processed the immediate danger and safety of his youngest son.

Jack covered his face with his hat and groaned. He waited until Michael had finished reassuring Georgie that his nightmare wasn't real - the wolves weren't going to steal Gilly again - and bid him goodnight before letting himself out and riding back home.

Michael felt cooler when Jack had left but didn't know if it was the loss of his presence or the sudden cold wind. He would detour via a doctor (endure a proctor, he thought with a Jane-esque giggle) after work tomorrow and ensure he wasn't coming down with a cold. The last time they'd been sick... Michael looked to the study where his photo was of Kate and his children, and decided to go to bed rather than finish that thought.

...

Jane loved Henrietta. It had only been three weeks since they started kissing and going out together, but it felt right. It felt like they'd been together a whole lifetime, as though every time she saw Henry, she was coming home.

She felt giddy at the thought of seeing Henrietta again that night, wanting desperately to tell her of her revelation. A hundred scenarios ran through her head of Henrietta's response to those three words, starting with joy and surprise and working her way up from there. But one particularly horrible scenario nagged at her, taking hold like a wolf would gnaw at a leg: _what if Henrietta didn't feel the same way?_

That awful thought plagued her all day, consuming her every thought until her fellow SPRUCE members sent her home early in concern.

Henry was surprised to see her home early and worried at Jane's blank expression. Jane still wasn't entirely sure how she had made it home without being hit by traffic. She barely remembered leaving the SPRUCE office.

"Jane sweetheart, sit down. I'll get you a drink. Coffee? Or something stronger? I've been saving a ration of the stronger stuff for a special occasion but I think you need it more," Henrietta said, worry clear on her face as she bustled into the small kitchen to pour Jane a drink.

Jane found herself holding a tiny glass a few moments later, and drank it in one shot, spluttering as it burned her throat. "What was that?"

Henrietta smiled brightly. "A truth serum," she said teasingly. "Now, tell me what's wrong? Are you sick?"

Jane shook her head. "I... I wanted to say something but now I'm worried you'll think it's the truth serum."

Henrietta laughed. "That won't work for another fifteen minutes. You've got time, sweetheart," she said, kissing her mouth tenderly.

Jane sighed into the kiss, feeling more at home against Henry's lips than she did walking through the door. "I love you." The words slipped free, as though being bottled up all day had been more than enough, and they had needed to escape and see the world.

Henry pulled back, eyes wide. "Did you... You really mean it?"

Jane nodded adamantly. "I've been thinking about it all day; I wanted to tell you but then I worried if I did tell you, you wouldn't feel the same way, and I've been going round and round in circles like horses on a carousel."

Henry placed a finger on Jane's lips to stop her rambling. "I like you, Jane. It takes a long time for me to fall in love with someone. Sometimes a year or more. But I want to try with you. Will you stay and love me, knowing I might not say those words back to you for a long time?"

Henry sounded nervous and worried, as though Jane was going to walk out the door the second she removed her finger from her lips.

Jane curled her hand around Henry's wrist and pulled her away so she could respond properly, threading their fingers together and loving the look of relief on Henry's face. "I'll wait, Henry. As long as you need. I can love enough for both of us," Jane added with a bright smile. "Do you mind if I tell you I love you? I won't expect an answer, I just want you to know."

Henrietta kissed her, slow and sweet. "I don't mind that at all, sweetheart. You can tell me again, if you'd like?"

Jane's breath hitched as Henry's hands slipped beneath her shirt. "I love you, Henry."

"I like you, Jane."

Those words were close enough, and besides, Henry could show love in different ways, without the words themselves. Like the way they were heading right now, as though horses had galloped off the carousel, and she was breathless with wonder and anticipation of what magical thing could happen next.

...

Jack was running late and his heart pounded as fast as his feet against his bicycle pedals. Groceries were in his front basket and he held onto them with one hand as he skidded to a halt in front of 17 Cherry Tree Lane. The door opened immediately, three children rushing out to greet him. Annabel took the groceries while John grabbed Jack's bike and Georgie started a barrage of questions as to where he'd been.

"I'm sorry I'm late, kids. I had to wash up before getting groceries - " he heard a lot of banging and crashing from the kitchen, and winced at the idea of Ellen cooking without the groceries " - and Angus wanted to fancy himself up for a date so he took all the hot water."

"Where did he take the hot water?" Georgie asked, frowning.

Jack blinked at the question. "I don't know. Let's think about it while we help Ellen cook, shall we?"

Georgie nodded and went with Jack into the kitchen, already pondering where the hot water might have gone.

...

Michael was more than grateful to come home to a hot cooked dinner, especially one that Ellen hadn't had a hand in. He thanked the children and Jack, of course, and started to eat. He made a soft groan around a mouthful of buttered roast potatoes, the vegetable practically melting in his mouth.

"We almost didn't have dinner ready in time," Annabel said, sounding cross and amused all at once.

Jack forced himself to look away from Michael, wondering why he suddenly was jealous of a piece of cutlery and hoping the children didn't notice his flushed cheeks. He moved his chair forward with a slight cough, taking a long drink of water. He'd need a long drink when he returned home that night and water wasn't going to cut it.

"Hmm, why's that?" Michael asked, looking to his daughter.

"Jack was late with the groceries," Annabel replied.

"Ellen was going to make pickled herrings on toast," John said, pulling a face that Michael felt mirrored his own.

"We really need to throw those out, no one eats them," Michael muttered.

"It'll be a waste of food; one of the leeries might have it if you don't mind it passing hands?" Jack asked and offered at once.

"Of course not. Whoever wants it is welcome to it, of course. Was everything all right this afternoon? We're not keeping you from your work, are we? Or any other thing in your life?" Michael asked, suddenly gripped with a fear and bout of jealousy that Jack might be dating someone.

"Angus bowl the cot daughter," Georgie supplied helpfully.

Michael blinked and set his fork down. "Angus... stole the... cot, shot, tot, oh, hot... daughter... I hope you mean water and not daughter?" he asked with a laugh, Georgie tilting his head and frowning at him in confusion.

"I needed to wash up a'fore coming here; I can't make your lovely home dirty, now, can I?" Jack said with a proud nod and smile.

"I don't mind if you're dirty," Michael said, the words out of his mouth before he truly thought about them. "That is, it's just soot," he added, his cheeks red and hurrying to continue, "but I have an en-suite in my room that you're welcome to use whenever you like. Whether or not Angus bowl the cot daughter," he said, smiling broadly.

Jack seemed surprised by the offer, but Michael figured if the man was helping look after his children and bringing them groceries and cooking, the least he could do was offer him a hot shower.

"Thank you kindly, Michael."

Michael couldn't resist the urge to pat Jack's hand, and caught Annabel looking at him curiously. Turning his attention back to his rapidly cooling dinner, Michael praised the chefs for their wondrous efforts once more. As he ate, Michael was far too aware of the warmth tingling in his fingertips from touching the leerie, even briefly. He wondered if patting a leerie's hand was like shaking a chimney sweep's hand but knew he felt luckier already.

...

Jack went home that night, feeling lighter than a boy with a balloon, and hornier than a unicorn. Michael's moans over nothing more than potatoes and butter were sinful. Jack had spent half the night resisting the urge to back the man against the closest surface to make Michael make those noises for him, because of him and his mouth and touch.

He was glad that Angus was staying the night with Rosie and he had their apartment to himself. Jack checked that the beds were empty and none of the leeries had decided to stay the night.

When he was certain he was alone, Jack stripped off his clothes and moved to his bed. Closing his eyes, Jack imagined Michael there with him. Michael said he was an artist, not a poet, but those moans of his were a poetry all on their own. He could make a musician out of Michael if his hands stroked there and his mouth kissed there. _Oh, he could spend hours finding the ways to make Michael cry out his name, the syllable stretched until he couldn't say or think about anything else._

Jack would spend his time journeying across Michael's body and discovering everything he liked, everything he loved, everything that made him whimper and sigh and moan. He'd take Michael apart with careful fingers and put him back together with even more care since he deserved and obviously needed someone to take care of him. (Michael would protest that description, but he'd also forget his head if it weren't screwed on, and Jack would be the first in a line of many to remind him of such.)

Since he was in his own imagination, Jack thought ahead to a time when he and Michael would share more than just a bed. When Jack would live at 17 Cherry Tree Lane, just as he'd wished as a child, though in a very different capacity now. He would live with the Banks' and love Michael every day, just as much as he deserved, and then with an extra serve of love on top. He'd kiss the man he loved whenever he wanted and wherever he pleased. They would go out together and take the children on picnics in the park where they'd fly their very own homemade kites fashioned out of paper and string. Jack would sing and dance for the children; he'd be there to wipe their tears and help them conquer their fears; he'd help them cook and clean, just like Mary and Bert had taught all of the apprentices when they were just young'uns. Jack would have a family, a job, and a home. He would have a man he loved to the moon and beyond the stars, three children he loved like another parent, and every day would be a brand new adventure filled with wonder and colours brighter than chalk on pavement. 

His body slack at the culmination of his desires, both physical and imagined, Jack went to shower and clean up. As he stepped under the running water, he cursed Angus again for taking all of the hot water.

...

  
End of the second chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

Michael's doctor had been surprised to see him, but had checked his temperature and done all the usual things a doctor had to do. He'd come to the conclusion that Michael was healthy and fit and definitely didn't need any medicine for a non-existent flu.

"What seems to be the matter, Michael?"

"My heart keeps pounding in my ears and I get warm and my cheeks go red. I get nervous sometimes, too. It could be the flu, couldn't it? Can you check again?"

His doctor laughed. "Why, Michael, it sounds like you're in love."

"Yes, I... _what?_ " Michael said, double-taking.

"Heart pounding, warm body, red cheeks, nervous - probably around the lady in question, isn't that right?" his doctor asked with a teasing lilt.

Michael's mouth dropped open like a codfish.

...

Jane opened her door to find her brother standing there, looking miserable and heartbroken all at once. "Michael? What's wrong? Are the children okay?" she asked, tightening her bathrobe around her body.

"Hmm? Yes, yes, they're fine. I... I'm disturbing you, I should go."

Jane's eyes widened when she saw the trail of clothes - half of them certainly not hers - leading towards her bedroom, and she smiled and coughed, blocking Michael's view of her girlfriend's undergarments. "Something's wrong, tell me what it is, and we can both... return to what we were doing."

"I think I'm in love with Jack."

Jane blinked.

She stared.

She blinked again.

"Well. I must say I'm surprised, Michael. I thought you already knew?"

"I... what?" Michael asked, looking at his sister sharply in confusion. "You thought I knew? I thought I was sick with the flu."

"Honestly, Michael. All you do is talk about Jack. If it's not about the children, it's about Jack's leerie speak or his newest route or something he and Angus did on the weekend. You're acting just like you did with Kate. I heard nothing but anecdotes about her for months on end; it's exactly the same now with Jack."

"It is?"

"Of course it is."

"Jane sweetheart, are you... oh. Hello, Michael. How are you?" Henrietta asked with a quick smile, tugging her robe closed.

"In love, apparently. Only, I'm the last to find out."

Henrietta smiled. "With Jack?"

Michael made a huffing sort of noise through his nose. "Definitely the last."

"Oh, Michael, you're the second to last, you mean," Jane said with a giggle. "Jack still doesn't know how you feel."

Michael seemed surprised at her words but nodded. "Right. Of course. I... how do I tell him?"

"How did you tell Kate?" Henrietta asked.

Michael's eyes widened and he lit up with a grin. "Thank you. Good night!" he called, already halfway out the door.

"Jane sweetheart? Close the door and come back to bed. We'll call Michael tomorrow at a decent hour," Henry murmured, kissing her exposed neck gently.

Jane nodded, hurrying to close and lock the door so she and Henry could return to bed.

...

Annabel usually slept through the night, but she'd heard the front door open and had snuck to the nursery window to see her father leaving the house, the moon high in the sky and her mother's star twinkling brightly. She'd returned to bed and waited for her father's return, drifting between awake and asleep.

The moon was still shining when Annabel woke next, groggy and not entirely sure what had woken her. She sat upright when she remembered her father leaving; _perhaps the door had opened and woken her now?_ Climbing out of bed, Annabel tiptoed out of the nursery and glanced over the landing to see a light coming from her father's study.

He was making noise and muttering under his breath, but he was home and safe. Annabel licked her lips, curious as to what her father was actually doing. _She shouldn't peek, but he had woken her, and surely she could see what all the fuss was about?_

Making her way down the stairs one at a time, Annabel took slow steps across the foyer to her father's study, peeking around the doorway.

Michael was searching his desk for something, a pencil behind one ear and another held between his teeth, and he made a noise of triumph when he found what he was looking for. Annabel started at the noise, moving back to hide from her father's view, her heart pounding.

As her heart started to calm again, Annabel found she could hear what her father was actually saying. Her brain was still a bit muddled from the broken sleep and the sudden surprise, but she recognised the leerie speak easily enough.

" ... dove, and bombastic feeling... healing?"

She put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. Her father had finally realised he was in love with Jack, it seemed. She wondered how long it would take for the leerie to realise the same.

Annabel had often been told that she took after her mother, and her Aunt, and her grandmother. They were all strong women with the ability to say what was on their mind. Annabel didn't mind taking after them at all and was quite proud of the fact.

A plan started to form in her mind to give them a day together. It wouldn't take much nudging, maybe literally, to make a few things happen in her favour. Grandma Banks would have done the same to see her son happy, she was sure of it, and that's all the permission she needed.

...

Michael had planned on getting up early and making the children breakfast, but he had forgotten to set his alarm and by the time he was awake, Annabel and John had already fed themselves and Georgie. Ellen had the day off and Jack would be visiting later in the day for... well, Michael supposed he didn't really need a reason.

After lunch it started raining heavily, the lovely London sky covered in thick grey clouds. The rain was meant to last into the night so the leeries were doing their rounds early to light the way. It also meant a lot of soaking wet leeries and Michael worried about Jack catching a cold. He paced by the door, listening out for the telltale ring of his bike bell, and told himself he wasn't worrying, just waiting.

John had had the idea to cut up some of Michael's old pictures and create a puzzle, so that was entertaining the children for now. Michael promised to join them as soon as Jack was home safe.

The bell was distant but Michael had the door open by the second trill. He stepped outside with an umbrella at the ready, and as Jack finally approached, he saw that it was as bad as he had feared. Jack was soaked to the bone and his usual smile was missing in his poor miserable state. He tried smiling anyway at the sight of Michael and the children behind him. Telling the children to stay inside, Michael hurried down the stairs and path, the umbrella not doing much but he didn't care.

"Are you all right? Come inside, we've got hot water at the ready for you," Michael added, gesturing to the house.

Jack would have loved the offer on any other day. He shook his head, drops flying off his soaked hat. "I've got to finish my rounds and Angus' tonight. Lad's sick as a dog."

Michael tried to remember how far Angus' route was, his brow furrowing. "But that's... eight blocks of lamps."

Jack made himself smile now. "Someone's got to light the way."

"Let me help. I've got a bike and ladder, I can help and we'll both come home to a hot shower."

Jack blinked at the offer, the notion of _home_ filling him with warmth despite the freezing rain. He found himself nodding and passing a spare pole to Michael. "Get your bike and ladder and I'll show you how a leerie does it."

Michael nodded firmly and gave the umbrella to Jack while he hurried back inside to get his bike and ladder. He returned a moment later, Annabel and John promising to take care of Georgie and George promising to take care of Gilly in his absence. They were old enough to look after each other for an hour or so, and Michael couldn't bear to leave Jack on his own in the rain like this.

"All right, I'm ready to smile and smirk," Michael said firmly.

...

Jack had finished his rounds, grateful for Michael's help and umbrella. The former kept him warm while the latter kept his wick dry. He finished faster than he anticipated and rode through the bare streets to find Michael on Angus' route. Finding him halfway through Angus' round, Jack rang his bell to alert him to his presence, stopping next to him.

"Thanks again for your help, Michael. I'll do the last of the route and we'll be done," Jack said, pleased.

Michael was shivering and just nodded. Even his thickest coat wasn't doing much against this rain but he didn't want Jack to see that.

Jack tipped his hat and rode down the street to the next block.

Michael set his ladder against the wet lamp post and climbed it unsteadily. His fingers were frozen as he tried to turn the gas valve, then opened the lamp panel and lit the wick.

_If anyone ever said this job was easy, he would kick them where it hurt_ , Michael decided, closing the panel as the wick caught and light filled the small section of road and path.

...

Jack finished off Angus' route, returning to help Michael, who had finished his block in that same time and looked frozen through. Jack rode beside him, talking loud enough to be heard over the rain, but not by anyone else.

"Thank you again for this, Michael. You did a wonderful job and I'll let all the leeries know you tripped the lights yourself. Not every man would do it, you know. You're really one of a kind."

Michael felt inexplicably warmer at Jack's words - or perhaps it was just his face blushing again - and could feel his toes by the time they reached home.

Annabel, John, and George had banded together to find clothes for both of them and ensured the water was hot for both a bath and a shower at the same time. They didn't allow an argument from either man and Jack and Michael soon found themselves devoid of shoes and wet socks. When their feet were bare they were both pushed upstairs to the en-suite with a hot bath ready and shower waiting. The separate bath and shower had been Kate's idea, and Michael was glad for it right now.

Too cold to argue anyway, Michael struggled to strip out of his wet clothes, eager for any kind of warmth. His fingers trembled and Jack stopped him, helping him unbutton the large coat with thick fingers and a warm smile.

"We can't have you catching a cold, can we? Shower or bath?" Jack asked, starting to peel off his own wet clothes.

Michael stared, barely daring to blink. "Both. Bath, I mean. You don't mind the shower?"

"So long as it's hot, I don't mind," Jack said.

He'd peeled off his shirt while Michael was still standing there in his wet clothes. Figuring his hands were still frozen, Jack moved to help Michael unbutton his shirt. He couldn't focus on anything other than the buttons because if he looked at his skin or his face, he was going to kiss the man, and he doubted Michael would appreciate it.

Michael's fingers twitched. _If Jack was taking off his shirt, it was only fair that he help him with his trousers, right?_

"There you are, Michael," Jack said, his voice as warm as the bath.

Blinking and realising he really did need to get warm - they were both shivering now - Michael stuttered his thanks and undid his own trousers.

Jack watched for a second, nothing more, and worked on his own trousers.

"Do you need more bubbles, Daddy?" Georgie called from the doorway, Annabel hushing her brother and tugging him back to the nursery.

Jack had practically thrown himself into the shower at Georgie's voice and Michael had been distracted by his son's voice so he'd missed Jack taking his trousers off. Not that he'd been watching or waiting, of course.

Finally peeling off his own trousers, Michael stepped into the bath - bubbles as high as his thighs - and sank down into the warm water, his muscles easing slowly.

The only sound was water running, and the peace that filled him was blissful and rare with three children. And Ellen.

As his limbs started to warm, Michael started to rub them and ease his aching muscles. Climbing up and down a ladder in the pouring rain was hell on his legs, his shoulders ached something fierce, and his hands felt permanently curled around ladder rungs and a wick stick. Michael couldn't do much about his shoulders, really, but the hot water helped so he tried to sink as low as he could without choking on water or bubbles. Washing his hair with bubbles made him feel young again, and Michael wondered why he'd not had a bath in so long. 

He sat there peacefully, his mind drifting, and thoughts ebbing in and out like a wave on the shore. Suddenly, one thought came out of nowhere and lodged in the sand to stay.

_Jack was naked in the shower less than a metre away from him_.

Michael sat up so abruptly the water around him sloshed, the bubbles almost gone completely. Looking over to the shower - the water still running and Jack was humming a tune under his breath, as though Michael's world hadn't turned upside down - Michael swallowed hard when he realised that all that separated him and Jack was a thin shower curtain. Standing up carefully, Michael stepped out, drained the water from the bath and wrapped himself in a towel.

"Towel's by the sink, Jack."

"Thanks," Jack called.

Michael hurried into his bedroom, glad that Annabel or Georgie had closed the door. He dried off and pulled clothes on as fast as possible. He didn't want to get caught naked by Jack. _Well, perhaps he did, but in a very different context. One that didn't involve his three young children being down the hall_.

Feeling far too aware of Jack still naked in his shower, Michael busied himself with the task of ensuring the clothes the children had picked would fit the leerie's broader shoulders and thicker frame. Listening to ensure the shower was still running, Michael dropped the clothes by the towel and grabbed the wet ones from the floor. The shower turned off just as he was reaching for his wet coat.

Eyes widening, Michael tried to turn and get out of the bathroom, only to slip on the wet tiles and fall on his arse.

"Fuck me," he cursed as pain radiated up his spine, and there was a soft noise of amusement from the shower behind him.

"Are you all right or was that a request?"

"Both. I mean... I fell over. I was just getting our wet clothes."

Jack stood in the shower stall, his heart pounding the rhythm of Michael's first response: _both, both, both, both_. "Both?" he echoed.

"Fuck."

...

  
End of the third chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

"Why can't we ask Daddy about being a leerie?" Georgie asked Annabel crossly, his pout starting to wobble.

"I'm trying to get him to admit he loves Jack, and that Jack loves Father. If we go in there asking questions, they won't admit it, and they'll be ridiculous."

"Do they really love each other?" John asked curiously, glancing up at the ceiling as a dull thud was heard.

"Of course. They just haven't said it yet because they're afraid," Annabel added, rolling her eyes.

Georgie frowned and clung to Gilly a little tighter. _Imagine being an adult and scared of something as simple as love!_

...

"It's complicated, Jack. I'm a widowed father of three children. I have to think of them first."

"Of course. You know I love them like they were my own, don't you?" Jack asked.

"Yes, yes, I do know that. They love you, too, you know," Michael said, voice soft.

"Glad to hear it. Anything other objections or can I get my towel now?"

Michael scrambled to his feet, cursing under his breath. He hadn't realised how cold the bathroom was getting now that the main sources of heat had stopped. _Poor Jack must be freezing_. Taking the towel he held it out of reach of the shower curtain. "Here, your towel."

"Thanks," Jack said, reaching around the curtain to grab the towel.

Michael swallowed his disappointment and hurried back to his bedroom to think while he still had peace.

...

Jack's heart was pounding in a way it hadn't since he'd taken flight on a balloon. _One part fear, ten parts excitement and anticipation_.

He dried off the best he could, trying to rub warmth back into his limbs, and wrapped the towel around his waist before stepping out of the shower. A small pile of clothes were sitting by the basin, but it was their clothes still strewn around the bathroom floor that worried Jack.

If he didn't get these dry, he'd have to spend money at a launderette. His favourite red vest was among the discarded clothes and that one needed its own washing machine due to the colour running when it was wet. Picking it up now, Jack was relieved to see the floor free from a red stain.

Wringing it out carefully over the basin, Jack caught sight of his reflection. It had been almost a year and a half since he'd last seen Mary Poppins, and he felt the absence of magic more keenly every day. He'd often thought that being with Jane would have been his magical thing but they hadn't quite fit in the way he had hoped. The stirring feeling of being balloon-light was happening again now and Jack was sure this time. Michael would fit with him in ways that Jane never had. He just had to keep his light shining until Michael believed it, too.

"Oh, the clothes; I'll get them in the dryer right away. Don't worry, I know to check the labels. Learnt that the hard way with one of Kate's favourite jumpers, but Annabel did get a new jumper out of it," Michael said with a chuckle, moving around the bathroom to pick their clothes up again. "It's a lovely red colour. I promise to take care of it," he said, solemnly as Jack handed the vest over.

"Thank you."

Michael smiled and hurried to the laundry downstairs. Jack closed the bathroom door so he could get dressed and warm up again. The shirt stretched along his broad shoulders, but it smelled like clean soap and Michael's unique scent of ink and paint and tea. Jack breathed it in deeply, his heart fluttering like a bird.

...

Michael had put the laundry on a warm dry cycle and paused at the top of the stairs. In the nursery, he could hear Annabel and John playing a game with Georgie, singing something about being on their heads and turtles on their backs. He hoped to God they wouldn't break their necks.

Jack dressed in a towel was somehow worse than the thought of Jack naked, mostly because the towel made him want to see Jack naked even more.

He swallowed hard at the thought and returned to his bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. The bathroom door was closed, which was a shame, but he knocked.

"I'm back. Is there anything else you need?" Michael asked, hoping for an answer he couldn't guess.

The bathroom door opened and Jack was standing there wearing his clothes. It was worse than the towel and worse than being naked because now all Michael wanted to do was undress Jack like he was a present wrapped up all for him.

"Just a cuppa when we go downstairs. Now, I think we need to talk, don't you?"

_Talking. Yes, he could do that. He could focus on Jack's face while his shoulders were right obviously there and his trousers were tighter than he'd expected, too_.

"Are you all right in those clothes? I can find better ones," Michael said, turning to his dresser to find something else.

Jack stepped into the bedroom and took a moment to appreciate the carpet beneath his feet, then squeezed Michael's forearm to stop him. "Michael, please."

Looking at the leerie took a considerable amount of willpower, and he felt his breath leave his body in a shuddering motion as Jack stroked his skin with his thumb.

"So, you want me to fuck you?" Jack asked, a cheeky smile on his face as Michael's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed. He realised Jack was teasing but that didn't mean his imagination hadn't provided hundreds of images about that very scenario. Georgie got his excessive imagination from Michael, Kate had always said, and he could believe it at that moment.

"Breathe, Michael; it's important for living," Jack said, stepping forward in alarm as Michael glazed over.

"I am. I just need to sit."

"You are sitting."

"Right. Yes. Of course, I am. Are you warm or is it just me?"

Jack laughed, a sound that made Michael feel like he was on a runaway carousel horse, and he wondered if Jack was sort of magic like Mary Poppins was. _Or like he'd believed she was as a child. It was funny how his memory kept blurring reality and fiction, and he never knew for certain whether the things they'd experienced were as fictitious as he'd thought when he'd grown up_.

In a lot of senses, Michael still felt like that little boy who had jumped into pavement paintings and had tea parties on the ceiling. Especially so when he was with Jack.

"Can you sit with me?"

"Of course," Jack said, sitting beside him and waiting patiently. 

Michael breathed slowly and looked at Jack's clasped hands. It drew his attention to the tight material around each of his thighs. He wondered if Jack's clasped hands were to show his comfort or to hide a certain discomfort and swallowed hard.

"I shouldn't have teased; I think I broke you," Jack murmured.

Michael looked up at Jack's face and saw a combination of worry and amusement. "It depends on whether you meant it or not."

Jack grinned, warm and as bright as a lamp in the fog, and leaned close. "It depends on whether you want me or not."

Michael felt Jack's breath against his skin and mouth, his whole body shuddering. He didn't know if he moved or if Jack did, but they were kissing hard a heartbeat later. His heart felt like a balloon, rising in his chest, and he didn't think he'd ever come down.

...

Annabel peeked into her father's room, having promised her brothers to scout and report back. She grinned on seeing Jack and Michael kissing, closing the door quietly, and creeping back to the nursery so she wouldn't disturb them.

"Well? Did they admit it yet?" John asked, glancing to the nursery door behind her as though he could see around corners and through solid doors.

Annabel grinned broadly and nodded. "They had to; they're kissing."

Georgie wrinkled his nose. "Yuck!"

John nodded in agreement with his brother, pulling a face. Annabel laughed and made kissing noises as she chased them around the nursery, Georgie laughing and squealing as he tried to get away from the kissing monster made of lips.

...

Michael pulled away from Jack, feeling breathless. Clutching his hand on the bed beneath him - just to check he hadn't floated off the bed - he grinned as Jack breathed out slowly, cheeks red, and licking his lips.

Georgie's squealing had him looking to the door, though laughter followed and Michael relaxed.

Jack moved to stroke Michael's shoulders, and Michael looked back to him. Jack kissed him gently once more, pulling away and giving a wink. "Let's get something to feet, dove."

Food sounded amazing, but the word dove reminded Michael of the drawing he'd done. He kissed Jack's cheek, grinning as he stood. "Stay there, I'll be right back," he said over his shoulder, already rushing out of the door.

Jack blinked at Michael's sudden exit and the noise from the nursery increasing. Heading that way so he'd have something to do - and check that Michael hadn't fallen down the stairs in his rush - Jack knocked on the nursery door frame. "Hello, lids. What are you shoeing?"

Georgie was laughing too hard to answer and Annabel was wrestling with the bathroom door since John had apparently decided to barricade himself in there.

"John, get out here!" Annabel called, pounding on the door with a fist.

"No! I'm hiding in the bath and can't hear you under the water!"

"I want to see the pirate ship again," Georgie said, scrambling out from under his bed and joining his sister to knock on the door.

"Pirate ship, hey?" Jack asked, jumping into the room, and using a large handkerchief to tie a bandanna around his head. "So, you've been looking for me buried treasure?"

Georgie grinned as the nursery turned into a sandy beach around them. Annabel stopped pounding on the bathroom door as she heard a parrot squawking from Georgie's shoulder. John opened the door and looked out, eyes wide when he saw the pirate ship out in the distance and the pirates his siblings and Jack had become. Stepping out of the bathroom, a sword appeared on his hip and a patch covered his eye.

"There we go, me hearties. Now, let's find that buried treasure!" Pirate Jack cried, the children crying out along with him and following Annabel's map.

...

Michael found the drawing he'd done and hurried back upstairs. Hearing Jack and his children making a racket in the nursery - not even the Admiral's cannon could make that much noise - Michael headed to the room, stopping at the doorway.

Jack had a bandanna around his head and a broom tied to his leg to represent a peg leg, Michael guessed. Annabel, John, and Georgie all had their own bandannas, and Gilly was tied to Georgie's shoulder like a parrot. Annabel had taken a piece of paper and was using it as a map to find the buried treasure. John was using Ellen's duster to fight a pillow that had a piece of paper stuck to it with an angry face drawn on.

"Ah, that's where the treasure is buried!" Jack cried, pointing at the top of the bookcase.

"Why's the treasure in a volcano?" Annabel asked, frowning at her map.

"Volcanic rock is hiding the gold, o'course. It's the only way to make sure the baddies wouldn't get it! We'll have to be careful, especially me with me peg leg," Jack added with a grin, winking over at Michael.

Michael grinned back at him and for an instant, he swore he could feel a tropical heat pressing against him and smell the salty scent of the ocean.

...

Not a lot changed, but at the same time, everything did.

Jack spent as much time at 17 Cherry Tree Lane as he had before, perhaps more now that he didn't have to return to his apartment with Angus every night. Angus ribbed him about it in the dawn hours, but his joy was too bright and warm for Jack to care.

Jack and Michael spent just as much time together, though there was significantly more kissing and less clothing as the weeks went by. The kissing was amazing, the fewer clothes were wonderful, and one day soon, Jack hoped he and Michael would take that next step together. He didn't want to rush Michael, of course, and he knew it was difficult for them to have time alone.

Georgie still had nightmares about wolves, John burst into the room at any hour of the day or night asking a hundred questions in a minute, and Annabel was obviously trying to corral her brothers, but she needed her hair brushed and clothes washed or mended and money for groceries. Ellen had her own issues to resolve; the mop kept going missing and appearing in the oddest places, so much so that Jack wondered if it was sentient like Mary Poppins' umbrella, even though Michael swore it was Ellen's forgetful nature.

Michael had a day coming up where he wasn't working, Ellen had the day off to visit her sister, and Jane and Henrietta had promised to take the children to the beach. While Jack would have loved to go and see the ocean with them, he also wanted the time alone with Michael. From the slow look of realisation on Michael's face as he figured out that they would have a day together, Jack couldn't help but anticipate their upcoming day together, finally alone.

Michael had spent that night murmuring the things they could do together. He had started with breakfast and there'd been lots of kissing mentioned, which had, of course, led to them kissing. Then he had murmured something else about leerie speak and drawing, more kissing, both mentioned and happening right there. Jack knew that Michael was getting tired because he also talked about a tea party on the ceiling and a long word that Jack swore was mumbled. Somehow, right at the end, Michael had said "oh, and lots of sex" before promptly falling to sleep with a deep snore. Jack wasn't going to hold Michael to a suggestion made when he was half-asleep, but a man could dream.

...

  
End of the fourth chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

Jane felt just as excited about going to the beach as the children did. They would play in the ocean and talk to dolphins, and she would get to see Henrietta in her new bathing suit. She still hadn't shown Jane, as it was meant to be a surprise, and the anticipation made it both worse and so much better.

She was up bright and early on the morning of their trip, and tried to be quiet as she packed a large picnic basket full of food and drinks. Henry had her surprise, and Jane had hers.

Henrietta wasn't a light sleeper, but she was definitely not a morning person. She stumbled out of the bedroom, leaning against the kitchen door frame, and blinked wearily at Jane, yawning widely.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Did I wake you?" Jane asked, already dressed and perfectly put together, closing the picnic basket lid and moving to kiss her.

Henrietta felt somewhat more awake when Jane's lips left hers, but not enough for conversation. She just nodded and curled her arms around Jane's shoulders, intent on using her as a pillow. Jane laughed as Henry snored against her, stroking her hands up Henrietta's ribs.

"Come on, dear. You can sleep on the sand once I've put up the umbrella, okay?"

Henry peppered lots of light kisses along Jane's neck, making her laugh and then gasp as Henrietta cupped her breast between their bodies.

"Henry, we have to pick the children up soon. We have to leave in an hour."

"We'll be quick," Henrietta said, a challenge in her tone and an excited gleam in her eyes.

"We've never spent less than an hour... Ohh, okay," Jane agreed breathlessly as Henrietta tweaked her nipple between expert fingers.

Henry smiled at her, bright as the sun and wicked as temptation personified. Jane followed her girlfriend to their bedroom with an excited giggle.

...

Angus smirked at Jack as he readied himself for his day date with Michael. "You're sure about this then?"

"Sure about what?" Jack asked, pausing as he ran the hot iron over his shirt.

"About Michael. He looks like a twink, but looks are deceiving. My Rose would - "

"We've talked about this, Angus. What you and Rosie do isn't a story for innocent ears."

Angus snorted. "That's why I was gonna tell you; ain't nothing innocent about you or your ears."

"Shut up."

Angus could tell his best friend was nervous, especially with a poor response like that. "He loves you, right?"

"Right."

"And you love him?"

Jack nodded, focusing on ironing again.

"And his kids love you?" Angus asked.

"Yes. And I love them; what's your point, Angus?"

"That is my point, track. You love him, he loves you like you hung the moon and stars, so there's nothing to worry about."

Jack sighed, shaking out his shirt and turning it over to iron the other side. "Love isn't always enough."

Angus hopped off his stool and stalked over to his friend, glaring. "You take that back. You're the one who said love is a light: it always leads you home. Mary Poppins would be disappointed in you."

Jack swallowed hard. _Disappointing Mary Poppins usually was the start of forgetting, and he'd promised not to forget_. He looked over to the drawing that Michael had given him: a dove flying through a blue sky with the string from a bunch of colourful balloons in its beak. "I'm just nervous, Angus. You're right. Love is a light and it will lead me home," he said firmly, the words and belief settling firm in his chest.

Angus smiled and clapped him on the back. "Good. Me and the boys have got your rounds tonight, but you're up like a sparrow for the morning."

"Thanks, Angus," Jack said. Finishing ironing his shirt, he put the heavy iron aside and slipped his shirt on. "What do you think?"

Angus grinned. "I think it'll be on the floor in seconds and Michael won't even notice all the time you took to starch and iron it."

Jack certainly hoped so.

...

Michael was going to throw up. Annabel, John, and Georgie had all left for the ocean with Jane and Henrietta, John offering to carry the basket now that he was taller and stronger, and the eldest man among them. Jane had given it to him with a look of amusement, Henry had muttered something about gender roles, and Michael had felt like he was going to miss out on this one perfect day together. He'd almost run out after them, never mind his togs, but the wind had blown the door shut to keep him inside. _It was just a really windy day, that's all_.

Now, with an hour between his children leaving and Jack arriving, Michael was pacing back and forth across the foyer and trying to convince himself that he didn't need to leave. He wasn't a bad father for having a day away from his children. He wasn't a bad boyfriend (is that what he was now? He hadn't been a boyfriend since Kate, and had never expected to be one again, honestly) if he wanted to spend time with his children. He was nervous and his nerves were getting the best of him, that he could admit freely.

Moving to his study to at least do something, Michael decided on a painting. It always relaxed him more than drawing could; drawing required lines and concentration whereas he could get lost in painting and his feelings without any semblance of shape taking form. Setting up a pre-prepared canvas, Michael gathered his paints and brushes and began to work.

He'd heard enough of the children's stories about the Royal Dalton Music Hall to manage a large pink and white striped hall filled with cotton candy, peanuts, while outside animals of all shapes and sizes roamed. His paintings were abstract in a way that his drawings never were, so an elephant became a smear of grey, a fox was a splash of orange, an ostrich in pink, and the wolf was a mix of grey and white with a black top hat and purple coat. They'd never really described the wolf, only that he, the weasel, and the badger had tried to hurt them and throw them off the bowl, but the addition of the coat felt right.

The Admiral's cannon fired and Michael paused habitually after all of these years to catch several items and place them back absentmindedly. As Big Ben began to strike eleven in the distance, there was a rapid and familiar knock on the door.

Jack had arrived.

...

Jack knocked, hoping to look patient despite feeling as antsy as a child on Christmas morning and waited.

The door was flung open, Michael standing there as though he'd run a marathon, his eyes wide and looking as vulnerable as Jack felt. They'd known each other long enough that he recognised the emotions on his face, and Jack spied hope, optimism, and what he certainly wanted to be desire. He smiled broadly and took his hat off. "Good morning to you, cycle."

Michael laughed and stepped back, allowing Jack to enter the foyer. "Good morning to yourself, track. I was preoccupied otherwise, I would've opened the door when you came in the gate."

"I hope not; I oiled that last week," Jack said, glancing over his shoulder as the gate squeaked and closed with a clatch.

"I don't think the gate noticed," Michael admitted, closing the door.

"The mop and the gate, whatever next?" Jack murmured.

Michael laughed in delight and kissed Jack eagerly, distracting him from thoughts of the apparently semi-sentient gate.  "If my paintbrushes want to do my work for me and create masterpieces to sell, I wouldn't complain."

"You love painting," Jack said, somehow both of them managing to navigate the staircase backwards and hardly removing their hands or mouths from each other.

"I'd have more time... with you... for this," Michael replied between kisses, and somehow they were already in his bedroom, his shirt over his head in a swift motion with long arms and nimble fingers.

Jack couldn't argue with that.

...

"Henrietta? Do you know about the birds and the bees?" Annabel asked, drawing looks of English alarm from the other passengers on the train.

"Yes. Why do you ask?" Henrietta asked, wondering if she should scandalise all of the old busybodies by planting a kiss right on Jane's mouth.

"Because Mother explained the birds and the bees to me before she went away, but she never explained the birds and the birds. Or the bees and the bees, for that matter. John doesn't know, either," Annabel added, as though her brother's knowledge was final.

"And you want to know about the birds and the birds?" Henrietta asked, refraining from smiling as one woman's eyes widened and she turned away from them in a huff.

"And the bees and the bees," Annabel said with a firm nod. "But I think there's a lot of people who are already unhappy with us, so maybe later?" she suggested, glancing over to where Jane was trying to console Georgie who had left Gilly behind and was letting everyone on the train know how unhappy he was about the fact.

"Just think about it, Georgie. Gilly can't breathe underwater; we don't have a snorkel for him, and he'd hate being left on the sand without you," John said, a mix of fantasy and practicality that had Georgie slowly coming around.

Jane breathed a sigh of relief when Georgie stopped crying. He curled up against her side, worn out for the rest of the trip to the sea. John smiled when Jane thanked him, and returned to his book, guarding the picnic basket as though his life depended on it.

...

Michael didn't know that he'd ever been so nervous before. He'd been nervous with Kate, of course, and with their wedding day, and with each of her pregnancies, but he doubted he'd ever been as nervous as he was in this moment.

He was standing there without a shirt and Jack was staring at him, but not moving or saying anything and Michael felt exposed. He'd felt this exposed only twice before: his first time with Kate, and the time he'd shaved off his moustache.

"Jack? Can you... can you say something, please? Anything," Michael added, stepping towards Jack and trying not to cover his chest awkwardly; he was a grown man and he would survive this so long as Jack said something.

"I ironed my shirt," Jack said.

Michael couldn't help but laugh incredulously, looking to Jack's shirt. "You did a lovely job. Can I see it closer?"

Jack grinned and nodded, tugging his shirt off as gently and carefully as possible. He threw the shirt to Michael, who caught it and just stared at Jack. "Well, what do you think of my handiwork? I don't iron for just anybody, cycle."

Michael grinned and looked at the shirt in his hands, the material warm and he couldn't resist the temptation to bring it up to his face and breathe in Jack's strong scent of gas and soot and soap. Looking up, Michael startled on seeing that Jack had moved closer to him. He should have felt his warmth, Michael mused, reaching out to touch Jack's pec, resting his hand over his steadily thumping heart.

Jack smiled and covered Michael's hand with his own, raising it gently to kiss his hand. Michael stared, wide-eyed and vulnerable and, above all, trusting. Jack wasn't going to break that trust; it was as priceless as a Royal Dalton bowl.

This time, Michael knew he moved first, and he kissed Jack as firmly as he could, the shirt crushed between them and falling to the ground as Michael wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders. "Fuck me, Jack?"

"It would be my pleasure."

...

Jane was staring, but then, so was half the beach. Henrietta had walked out of the beach hut in a swimsuit that showed her legs and accentuated her breasts and had thin straps over her freckled shoulders. Jane couldn't stop staring, and even Georgie's squealing as he ran away from a wave barely registered.

"Oh, you found an umbrella. Thank you, Jane sweetheart; I can't imagine how red I'd be without it," Henrietta said, apparently oblivious to the stares of others as she sat beside Jane and kissed her cheek.

"Can we build a sandcastle, Aunt Jane?" John asked eagerly, and she finally remembered she had three rambunctious children in her care.

"Of course. Make it as tall as Georgie!" Jane dared, holding Henry's hand and wishing they were at home.

Henry could have modelled her new bathing suit in the privacy of their own home and Jane could have demonstrated her desire and awe in a much more physical way.

Henrietta leaned back against Jane as they watched John and Georgie carry buckets of wet sand while Annabel started on the moat.  "Do you want me to read to you? Or will you fall asleep as you did the other night?" Henry teased.

"You have a very calming voice."

Several people had moved away on seeing Henrietta kiss Jane, and Jane felt her heart pounding in a way that was far too familiar. SPRUCE had helped Jane deal with her fear of public speaking, but she still experienced bouts of fear often enough that she recognised it now. As several more people left, Jane felt her fear spike in her chest. She was being stared at and judged and normally she wouldn't care, but these people were judging her beloved Henrietta.

"Henry, people are staring at you. Do you want me to move away?" Jane asked in a low mutter.

"They've been staring at me since I left the beach hut, sweetheart. I'm happy here with you, if you don't mind being seen with me?"

"Of course I don't mind," Jane said firmly; turning to cup Henrietta's face in her hands and kiss her thoroughly.

Henrietta looked a little dazed as she pulled away and Jane couldn't help but feel proud and a little smug at the sight of her girlfriend looking so delectable.

"Aunt Jane!" Georgie called, even as he ran up to their umbrella and towel, his whole body covered in sand. "You have to see our castle! The crabs are attacking the mermaids, and we have to help!"

"Well, that does sound like a worthy cause," Jane said with a smile.

"I'll stay and look after our picnic, sweetheart," Henrietta said, squeezing her hand gently and watching Jane as she followed Georgie down to the castle he and his siblings had made.

Henrietta watched as they defended the imaginary mermaids against the make-believe crabs. She ignored several people as they gathered their things and left, even the ones who cursed at her on their way past.

_They were people whose minds were so small that they couldn't even contemplate the world beyond their home town_ , Henrietta reminded herself. _She was happy with Jane, Jane loved her, and the children were enjoying their day out. That was all that mattered_. It didn't matter that one person hissed _invert_ at her, or another kicked sand at her on their way past, or that several people glared and spat at her in disgust.

By the time the game was over and the children were hungry for their picnic, their small section of the beach was almost empty. Henrietta just smiled up at them brightly and opened the picnic basket to bring out their food. She made a bigger fuss of the picnic that Jane had packed than she normally would have, praising each food and every bite. Jane helped the children tell the story of the crabs and mermaids to keep them occupied. They were so distracted by talk of their game and the sword fight Jane had gotten into with one of the crab guards that the children didn't notice the empty beach around them.

  
...

End of the fifth chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	6. Chapter 6

Michael was being tortured. Jack was taking his time, slow and unhurried as he opened Michael up. No amount of pleading and begging could change the tempo he'd set with his fingers.

"Jack, _please_ ," Michael begged once more, hoping the hundredth time was the charm.

Jack added more oil to his fingers and continued his slow rhythm, pressing kisses along Michael's back and licking at the salt that had gathered from his sweating and straining. _God, he loved the sight of Michael like this, desperate for him and begging for his cock_.

Running broad palms down Michael's back and cupping his arse, Jack spread his cheeks and rubbed his cock against Michael, the strangled gasp of anticipation and desire sweeter than any songbird.

Michael made a loud keening sound that was thankfully drowned out by the Admiral's cannon. Jack grinned and used a hand to guide his aching cock into Michael slowly. They were both breathing hard by the time he was seated fully.

"My fucking God. If you don't fuck me, I will... _do something_ ," Michael groaned.

Jack grinned and slid his hips back. Michael whined at the loss, biting at his pillow so he wouldn't curse and beg futilely yet again.

"It's all right, love. I'm going to take good care of you," Jack promised, slamming his hips forward and filling Michael with his girth.

Michael made a soft noise, the tension in his shoulders giving way. Jack stroked Michael's hips before squeezing and starting a rhythm with his own hips, back and forth to a different tempo.

...

Michael was an instrument and Jack was the expert player, the one who knew a single caress could make him sigh and a long stroke would make him moan. He could feel every part of Jack pressed up against him, thighs and hands, his cock buried in him but still not deep enough. He tried to move his hips back against Jack, desperate and frantic, but not entirely sure what he was desperate for. Jack murmured soft crooning noises, never changing the tempo he'd set, and fucking into Michael as he'd promised.

Michael couldn't hold himself up anymore. His arms were numb, his shoulders ached, and all of his upper body strength gave out on him, his body collapsing to the bed.

"All right, love?"

Michael swore he responded, but Jack stopped, placing a warm hand on his back and repeating his question in concern. Michael licked his lips and forced himself to respond aloud this time. "Fine. Don't stop. Please, Jack."

Jack didn't respond aloud but he grabbed Michael's hips and started to thrust again, a faster tempo this time. Michael clutched the sheets beneath him as the new angle had Jack pressing against a certain spot inside him, air punched from his lungs as he saw stars.

"There you are, lovely. Hold on, love, this one will make you scream for me," Jack murmured, sounding far too pleased at the prospect.

Jack's thrusts picked up in their intensity and speed, and every single one hit against that spot inside Michael. Stars became comets became planets until Michael felt as though he was seeing the whole universe, and Jack was the only tether holding him and keeping him safe.

Michael screamed Jack's name, a long note that lasted long after the ringing from the Admiral's cannon had faded. Jack stroked his sweaty back and carded his fingers through his damp hair, curling into a gentle fist as Michael breathed and babbled about stars and the universe. "That's it, love. I've got you. Come back to me," Jack murmured. "I'm going to keep fucking you until I've seen the stars, too. Is that okay? I promise to clean us up afterwards."

Michael hummed in acknowledgement, wriggling his arse the best he could when he couldn't feel his limbs. Jack started a relentless rhythm this time, and Michael's eyes closed in the aftermath of his orgasm. Even as Michael wondered how anyone could fall asleep with Jack inside them, he fell asleep.

...

Jack had seen stars soon enough, Michael pliant and drowsy beneath him. He had cleaned them, as promised, then curled around Michael, hugging the other man to his chest. Michael looked younger when he was sleeping, and Jack grinned on spying flecks of paint on his skin. He loved that Michael was so involved in his painting and passion.

Tugging a sheet over their cooling bodies, Jack stroked Michael's body as he slept in his embrace. The soft snore that Michael emitted was outright adorable. For the first few minutes, at least.

Jack wondered if he snored as loud as Michael did, even as he rolled him slightly to change the pitch of his snoring. It lessened with the new angle, thankfully, and Jack pressed his body up against Michael's to keep him in place.

When he was comfortable, Jack made it his mission to map every curve and line of Michael's body. He wanted to know Michael as well as he knew himself, and this was the perfect time to start. Jack counted forty-two beauty marks along Michael's arm and neck and decided to count the rest later. Sleep was coming to claim him soon, and Jack struggled to stay awake for much longer.

Wrapping an arm around Michael, Jack settled down to sleep, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep among the stars.

...

Jane and Henrietta headed home with three sun-exhausted children, all five of them varying shades of red despite the umbrella's best efforts. The train ride on the way home was far quieter than the trip that morning, though Georgie had a small meltdown about losing his sandcastle to the tide. There were fewer passengers, as well, so there was no one to glare at them this time.

"The crabs destroyed it in revenge, Georgie; but don't worry, the mermaids all escaped," John said.

_He was a studious boy, like his grandfather, but he obviously had a healthy dose of his father's imagination, too_ , Jane mused. She stroked Georgie's hair as he curled up beside her, humming a song under her breath to help settle him.

"Feed the birds? I haven't heard that song before," John said with a frown.

Annabel sat up straighter, eyes bright despite the pain from her reddened skin. "I have. Father sang it to us when we were younger. Sing it again, Aunt Jane? Please?"

She wasn't entirely sure she remembered all of the words, as it had been almost ten years since she'd sung the song, after all. But as Jane began to sing, it all came back to her as though it was only yesterday when she'd heard Mary Poppins sing it in their nursery.

She finished the song to find all three children asleep and even Henrietta was dozing lightly. Jane smiled, love in her heart for each of them, and spent the rest of the train ride watching the countryside pass by.

...

Michael had listened to his children's tale of their adventures at the ocean, the crabs they'd fought, and the mermaids they'd rescued. Georgie detailed the sandcastle he'd built, down to the leaf flag and moat, and then lamented the tide and vengeful crabs. Michael had responded with the appropriate delight and worry and annoyance, but his mind was fixated on Jack across the room who was talking with Henrietta and Jane in low voices.

Annabel described the picnic they'd had in agonising detail, making Michael remember he hadn't eaten since that morning. Jack had kept him occupied for the whole day, and while their dinner was cooling on the table, the children came first.

John talked about the shallow pools he'd found and the seashells he'd collected to decorate his sandcastle with. There was talk of structural integrity and centre of gravity and something else that Michael didn't really understand but figured he meant trying to make the sandcastle taller without it falling over.

"We'll have to go to the beach together next time," Jack said decisively, smiling broadly. "We can build a sandcastle big enough for Georgie to stand up in, then!"

The excitement kept the children occupied while Michael said goodbye to Jane and Henrietta. The whispered conversation between his sister and her girlfriend, detailing what had happened at the beach made his blood boil, but he didn't know what to do about it. _Call the police and tell them a complete stranger had cursed at his sister's girlfriend?_

Jane looked small and fragile tucked against Henrietta's chest, the thought scaring Michael; _his sister was the strong one out of the two of them. She was the one who stood up to people and stared them down and made them change their minds through sheer will. The only difference between that and this was Jane fought for other people, not herself_.

"Are you sure you want to go home now? It's almost eight; you can stay the night," Michael offered.

"I think we'd rather be at home tonight, but thank you, Michael," Henrietta said, kissing his cheek.

"I'll feel better in my own bed tonight. We'd better leave if we're to make it home before nine."

"Call me when you get there, all right? I'll be waiting," Michael said.

Jane nodded. "Of course. Goodbye, kids. Have a good night!" she called, her tone sweet and happy without a hint of the vulnerability Michael could still see in his sister's brittle smile.

Jack walked the two women out so Michael could start on his dinner. Whistling sharply, he drew the attention of the nearest leerie, who jogged over on recognising Jack.

Jane smiled in amusement as Jack spoke his funny leerie speak, still not understanding half of it, and too exhausted to guess. _She should have slept on the train like Henry and the children, then she might've had enough energy to get home_ , Jane mused.

"You've got it, Jack," the leerie said with a firm nod. "Ladies, this way."

"What's going on?" Jane asked in surprise as she and Henrietta were guided over to the leerie's bike.

Jack smiled and tipped his hat. "Got you both a first-class ride home, Miss Jane. I'll trip the rest of the lights for you, Lee."

"Right-o, Jack. Ladies, one on either side of the ladder. Ready?" Lee asked, then pushed off and startled to pedal.

Jane waved over her shoulder, then held on tight as Lee pedalled then through the streets of London to their apartment.

...

Michael had overheard Jack organising for Jane and Henrietta to be taken home, promising to finish Lee's rounds for him so he could go home after. Jack had also put up a call for the two women to be escorted whenever and wherever possible. It wouldn't stop all of the comments or glares, but it showed that Jack cared, and Michael fell in love with the leerie all over again.

Rushing to the foyer, Michael grabbed the bike and ladder, meeting Jack outside. Kissing him fully, both of them breathless as he pulled away, Jack looked delighted and confused by the unexpected affection.

"I just... _Thank you_ , Jack. I'll keep dinner warm for you while you trip the lights."

Jack kissed Michael briefly, then guided the bike down the path. "I'll be home soon, dove."

Michael watched as he rode down the street to the next lamp post, then went inside to eat his dinner, bathe and put his children to bed, and wait for Jack to return.

  
...

End of the sixth chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	7. Chapter 7

With everything going right, something had to go wrong.

Michael had had a bad day. His train was running late in the morning, and he'd arrived at work almost fifteen minutes late. His favourite pen had exploded inside of his briefcase, ruining several hours' worth of work. He only had enough money in his pocket for a lone cup of tea, and there were only so many times he could go to Penny Farthing's desk for sweets "for the children". He'd left his umbrella at home and, sure enough, it had started pouring the moment he'd left work (late to make up for the late start, of course). His train seat on the way home had a wad of chewing gum on it, which he hadn't realised until after sitting, ruining his favourite trousers.

By the time Michael arrived at Cherry Tree Lane, he was soaked, exhausted, and severely grumpy in a way that Mary Poppins would either be proud of or disappointed by. Michael just wanted to go inside and crawl into bed. Whether he took his shoes and clothes off was yet to be determined.

Michael stood at the gate to number 17 and inhaled deeply, trying to mentally prepare for the next few hours. Even from where he was standing, he could hear Georgie wailing, John crying out, and Annabel and Ellen shouting. Jack's voice was somewhere in the cacophony, obviously trying to keep things calm and failing. Michael didn't know if he could stand to face everyone right then. He wanted to turn and keep walking down the street. Maybe he'd find another house where it was dark and quiet and he could sleep without being on edge for his children's night terrors. _God save him, he was a selfish father for even thinking that_. He knew it to be true, but it didn't make it any better.

"Fire!"

The Admiral's cannon fired, making Michael jump, pressing a hand to his pounding head. He turned back to the house to find the gate had opened. _He'd obviously bumped it when the cannon startled him. It was ridiculous and childish nonsense to think otherwise, even though the gate had a latch that he hadn't undone_.

Forcing himself to step through the gate and closing it behind him, Michael made his way to the front door, opening it wide and stopping short. He thought he'd mentally prepared for this, for the sight of his children running amok, for Ellen doing something ridiculous - possibly involving the ever-moving mop - and for Jack trying to corral them all.

Annabel was shouting into the phone, trying to be louder than the noise of the others in the house.

Ellen was shouting in the kitchen about the water pipe bursting again.

John ran into the kitchen, the door wide enough that he could see Jack sopping wet and trying to handle the pipe with a wrench.

Georgie was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, bawling his eyes out.

Honestly, Michael wanted to sit there and bawl right along with him. _He wasn't mentally prepared for this at all_.

Setting his ruined briefcase down, Michael closed the door behind him and tugged his coat off. Going over to the stairs, Michael crouched in front of Georgie and waited until he had his youngest son's attention. Georgie's tear-filled eyes widened and he threw himself at his father, sobbing something about Gilly being unstitched and he'd wanted to go to Topsy's to fix him, but then the pipes had burst and no one would take him.

Michael kissed Georgie's temple and sighed. "I've got tomorrow off, so I'll fix Gilly myself, how about that?"

"You can fix Gilly?" Georgie asked, bottom lip trembling.

"Of course. I can make ten pounds and I can fix Gilly," Michael promised. "Now, let's see what's going on with the pipe, shall we?"

Georgie sniffed loudly and nodded, resting his head on his father's shoulder as Michael carried him over to the kitchen. The door swung open as Michael stepped forward, and it clocked him in the face, making him curse.

"Sorry, Father! Are you all right?" John asked urgently, eyes wide.

Michael swallowed down any other responses and simply said, "It's all right, John. I've got this; why don't you go get ready for bed? It's past your bedtime."

"The plumbers will be here in the morning," Annabel reported dutifully. "We had our dinner, but the pipes burst before we could have our bath."

"Oh, good, you're home, Michael. The pipes burst again," Ellen said as she stepped behind John.

_He could see that. Very clearly, in fact, but he couldn't say that to Ellen, not in the mood he was in_. Michael just nodded. "Thank you, Ellen. Why don't you give me the mop and head on home? It's getting late and I'm sure your sister's expecting you."

Ellen didn't try to hide her relief and she passed the mop to Michael. "Good night. I'll be back tomorrow. Hopefully, the plumbers'll be here before me," she said over her shoulder, putting her hat on and grabbing her bag. "Good night, dearies!"

Michael would have to call Helen to ensure Ellen arrived there safely, but first, he had to deal with his children and the pipes. "All right, bedtime, all three of you. No arguing, please," he added in a pleading tone.

Georgie didn't want to let go of Michael's neck, clinging like a stubborn monkey.

"I'll be right back, Jack," Michael called, Jack grunting in response as water continued to spray.

Leaving the mop by the kitchen door, Michael carried Georgie upstairs, Annabel and John following and telling him all about their day. By the time they reached the landing, Michael had heard countless stories without actually hearing a thing.

Annabel and John both seemed to realise that they didn't have their father's attention as they normally would and fell quiet. They readied themselves for bed without protest, even though they hadn't had a bath, as Michael helped Georgie dress in his pyjamas and get settled in bed.

"I'm going to take Gilly with me now so I can fix him, okay? I promise he'll be fixed," Michael said, kissing Georgie's forehead and giving him his best reassuring smile.

Georgie nodded sleepily, exhausted from his crying, and was practically asleep by the time Michael had crossed the room to say goodnight to Annabel and John. They both hugged him and kissed his cheek, and Michael felt a little better as he tucked them in carefully.

In the dim light of the nursery, Michael saw Gilly by the door, grabbing the stuffed giraffe and stepping out onto the landing. Closing the nursery door behind him, Michael looked at Gilly and realised that it wasn't a simple seam that had broken: a whole chunk of Gilly had been torn out as though wolves had taken hold of the precious toy.

Shaking his head at the thought, Michael went downstairs to help Jack with the pipes. He reached the kitchen, frowning when he saw that the mop wasn't by the door where he'd left it, and opened the door cautiously when he didn't hear any cursing or spraying water. Jack was sitting on the wet kitchen floor, drenched and looking exhausted, the pipe held together with the wrench and luck.

"Hello, dove. I think you can guess what my day was like; how was yours?" Jack asked.

Figuring he was already wet - and covered in gum - Michael sighed and moved to sit beside Jack, Gilly resting between them carefully. Detailing his day should have helped him relieve the tension the day had brought, but it felt like it made it worse.

...

"And now I don't know where the mop is!" Michael ended, half incredulous and half annoyed.

Jack, who had always thought it better to laugh than cry, laughed. He laughed so hard he cried, and beside him, Michael just cried. Jack curled a wet arm around Michael as he sobbed in frustration, kissing his temple. "It's all right, dove. The pipes will be fixed in the morning, the kitchen will be dry, Gilly will be fixed, and this whole ridiculous day will seem like a bad dream."

"I can't fix Gilly. I can mend a broken seam at best, not fix... this," Michael admitted, looking at the horrible tear in Gilly, and hating that he'd already broken his promise.

Jack's day hadn't been much better than Michael's, really; the pipes were just another thing to deal with, especially since Angus still wasn't better, and he still had to do his friend's rounds, which meant he had to be up even earlier than usual. He was tired and wet, and yet, he still had to deal with Michael's problems on top of his own. "We'll work together to fix him. I can stitch and you can find fabric, okay?" he suggested, standing up off the wet floor, his bones and everything aching, and offering his hand to Michael.

Apparently Jack's optimism was the last straw for Michael.

"We can't fix this! It's not something you repair, it's something you can't fix! It's broken, it's irreplaceable, and it's real life. Wolves didn't ruin Gilly, the mop didn't move on its own, and the gate didn't open by itself!"

"All right. None of that happened, but we still have to try to fix Gilly. You promised."

"Yes. I promised! Me, not you! I don't need you!"

Jack clenched his jaw and tried not to snap back at Michael. "We've both had bad days, but there's no need to make them worse. I'm going to bed. I kept your dinner warm in the oven for you. Good night, Michael."

...

Michael knew the words coming out of his mouth were the last thing he meant. He'd meant to say _thank you for being here for my children_ , and _thank you for closing off the pipes_ , and _I'm terrified you'll leave us and break four hearts_ , and _some days I feel like I'm cheating on Kate by being happy and in love with you_ , and _I love you_. Instead, he was yelling these horrible things, and his heart felt like it was being torn up, just like Gilly.

His eyes were full of tears but he still tried to stitch Gilly, failing every time with hands that shook, and thread that slipped out of the needle.

Frustrated and certain that the needle was another sentient thing in the house since the damn thing had stabbed him for the fourth time and the thread had fallen out for the thirtieth time, Michael grabbed Gilly and walked outside. Not sure what he was doing or where he was going, Michael only knew he couldn't be inside another moment. Not with Jack upstairs in bed and not with the echo and far too recent memory of the things he'd said.

As he walked, a thick fog started to drift and creep along his feet. The fog climbed higher to his ankles and Michael continued to walk, oblivious to the fog starting for his calves.

The light dimmed around him, the moon hid behind thick clouds, and it took Michael a moment to realise and admit he was lost in the fog.

Lump on a log, his mind supplied helpfully.

He held Gilly tighter, as though to get comfort and reassurance, and turned around to try to get his bearings. Light from an alleyway had Michael walking towards it, grateful for any direction at that point. Stopping at a door that was exactly his height, Michael looked up to the window where the bright light illuminated the sign.

_Topotrepolovsky's. All repairs large and small. Fix-it shop_.

He was knocking on the door before he really thought about it. A light could be on but that didn't mean anyone would be awake. Fortunately, before he could rethink the crazy idea, the door opened.

A woman wearing bright colours and with bright red hair looked at him, a frown on her face. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Michael felt foolish and embarrassed and didn't know what to do about either feeling, really. "Michael. I, uh, have this giraffe, you see. It needs to be fixed, it's my son's and I promised Georgie I'd fix it, but I can't. Then I yelled at Jack because the mop is missing and I love him and I'm terrified I won't love him like I loved Kate," Michael said in a rush of words that had the redheaded woman blinking owlishly.

Her frown deepened but she stepped back, guiding him into the shop. "Come into Topsy's shop and we will see what can be done for the things you need fixed."

"Thing. It's only one thing. This giraffe, see?" Michael said, holding it out for her to inspect.

Topsy tutted as she took the toy, looking at it with delicate fingers and expert eyes. "I will fix this for you, Michael. The other thing may take more time. You sit and drink while Topsy sews and fixes the little giraffe," she said, patting his chest as she passed by to get the necessary tools to fix things: needles, thread, fabric, vodka, and a shot glass.

"I'm sorry, but I only have the giraffe to fix. What else is broken?" Michael asked in confusion, even as the woman - Topsy - poured the vodka into the glass and set it in front of him.

"I fix all things, great and small, just like it says on the sign. You can break your own heart, but that can be fixed, too. Some hearts are bigger than others but as fragile as glass," Topsy added, sucking on the end of a thread before pulling it through the eye of the needle.

Her words made Michael remember the feeling in his chest as though his heart had been torn apart like Gilly, and he must have been exhausted because her words made sense. He picked up the shot glass and drank it in one gulp.

"Now, tell me everything," Topsy said, looking through a basket of fabrics that Michael swore sparkled and shone.

_God help him, he told her everything_. He finished with the argument and his own fears about Jack leaving and not being attentive enough for the leerie and his children being devastated when they lost yet another adult in their lives. Again, he couldn't help but compare the love he had - and still - felt for Kate to the love he felt for Jack.

"Your children, you love them all the same?" Topsy asked, concentrating on Gilly, the fabric she'd chosen not matching at all and Michael - who was on his fifth shot of vodka - could only stare at the star-filled fabric that twinkled like the night sky. "You love all of them equally, of course, but not the same."

Michael looked up from the sparkling fabric to frown at Topsy, utterly confused. The sixth shot of vodka didn't help. _Or maybe it did, he wasn't sure yet_.

"They're individuals. Annabel's love is different to Georgie's love is different to John's love. They are all different and they need love in different ways. Love does not have one fit for everyone. You understand now?" Topsy asked, nimble fingers careful between galaxies and stars.

_Maybe the sixth shot did help, after all, because it **did** make sense. He could love Kate and love Jack in equal and different ways. He could love his children and love his Jack at the same time, and love his sister, and Henrietta, and Ellen, and even the damned mop and the gate_.  _He could love everyone in the world, each in their individual ways, and he wouldn't be any less of a man or a father or a husband or a boyfriend for it!_

Michael had his seventh shot, exclaiming this to Topsy, who simply looked amused and hooked her foot on Michael's chair to keep him tethered to the ground.

Before Michael could truly realise that he had floated off the floor for a moment - just like a certain tea party on the ceiling - the excessive alcohol on an empty stomach took effect and he collapsed against the small bench, fast asleep and snoring.

Topsy hummed softly under her breath and continued to sew and fix Gilly.

...

  
End of the seventh chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	8. Chapter 8

Jack hated going to bed angry, but worse than that, he hated waking up alone. He had been staying with Michael almost every day, and waking up beside him was fast becoming one of the things he looked forward to at the end of the day. He'd kept the bedroom door open in case Michael had decided to come to bed in the middle of the night, or the children needed something, but he woke up with his alarm alone and with an undisturbed sleep for once.

Closing the bedroom door gently so he could shower and dress for his morning rounds, Jack tried hard to believe it was a brand new day, and not think about Michael's words from the day before. _They had had a bad and long day with little sleep and Michael had said things he didn't mean_.

By the time he made it downstairs, Jack had promised himself that he would forgive Michael when he apologised. Looking into Michael's study, Jack frowned when he didn't see the lithe man on the lounge, as he'd expected.

Checking the dining room and the kitchen and even the cupboard with the mop, just in case, Jack tried not to let his worries get the best of him. _Maybe Michael had slept in the nursery with the children?_

Taking the stairs two at a time, Jack stopped in front of the nursery door, turning the handle slowly and pushing the door open millimetre by excruciating millimetre. Moonlight filled the nursery, illuminating the three sleeping children, and no Michael. Jack closed the door again gently and went downstairs.

Michael wasn't in the garden, and the lamps outside still shined brightly, even as the moon started to descend on the horizon. Jack had to do not only his rounds but also Angus' but he couldn't leave the children alone.  Henrietta and Jane would be asleep and they were halfway across town, anyway. Knowing someone who would be awake at this early hour, Jack picked up the phone and called the operator to place his call.

Rosie was awake and still looking after Angus, glad to report his friend was feeling better and his fever had broken. She agreed to come to Cherry Tree Lane and watch the house and children while he did his job. Jack thanked her and promised her a bottle of wine from his rations in return for her help.

"Two bottles since it's two in the morning," Rosie replied, ending the call.

Jack grinned and hung up the phone. Going into the kitchen, he frowned at the mop sitting by the stove. "Don't you cause any trouble. Rosie won't stand for your tricks."

The mop didn't move or respond. Jack organised a light breakfast - going up and down his ladder a few hundred times was never a good thing on a full stomach nor an empty one - and tried to figure out where Michael had gone. The park was close by, he could stop there on his way home, or maybe the Admiral knew where he'd gone since he and Mr. Binnacle started their cannon earlier in the morning the older they got. The Admiral liked sleeping on the roof anyway, despite Mr. Binnacle's protests of the cold and how he'd cleaned the Admiral's quarters. Jack suspected Mr. Binnacle simply took the Admiral inside when he'd fallen asleep.

Deciding to ask them if they'd seen Michael, he set aside his bowl to wash later - especially with the wrench still holding the pipe together and the floor somewhat damp - and Jack put his hat on to go outside.

He startled on seeing Rosie coming down the pathway, her coat closed around her tightly to ward off the chill. Jack gave a soft whistle so she'd see him and the gate wouldn't give her trouble. Rosie smiled and waved, opening the gate and walking down the path briskly. As she neared him, her smile faded on seeing his face.

"Don't worry, Jack. I'm sure your man's out there waiting for you to find him and bring him home."

Jack felt brittle and ready to shatter into a million pieces at her words but forced himself to nod. "I'm hoping so, Miss Rosie. Thank you again for coming to look after the children. I won't be an hour."

Rosie kissed his cheek. "I know. You go and do your rounds, I'll make sure the house doesn't fall down around the precious children's ears."

"Thank you. Ignore the mop if you see it; it's just curious," Jack said, already halfway down the path with his bike, ladder, and wick stick.

Rosie waited until Jack was out of sight before entering the house. Spying the mop by the kitchen door, Rosie raised an eyebrow. "Hello, you. We're not going to have any trouble, are we?" she asked, unbuttoning her coat and setting it in the coat closet.

She tried not to fret about Angus. He'd been awake and lucid when she'd answered the phone, and had promised he would be all right while she was gone. Rosie had still taken her time, not wanting to leave her leerie, but Angus had already fallen to sleep, his breath rattling in his chest, but sounding far better than he had only hours ago. Trusting he would be safe and sleeping while she was gone, Rosie had rushed over to help Jack.  Now that she was alone and thinking clearly, Rosie felt several days' worth of exhaustion and emotion creeping up on her. She had been so hyper-focused on Angus that Rosie hadn't taken time to look after herself, and she trembled with the effort to not fall apart.

"Right. Let's see what I can do to keep busy and my mind off the world, hey?" Rosie murmured to herself.

Glancing into the study, she stayed out, knowing better than to touch an artist's mess. The dining room was clean and well-loved, several puzzles on the table and pictures stuck to the wall of the children's attempts at drawing and painting like their father. The kitchen was having a small fit, the floor damp in places, tools scattered across the bench, and a wrench holding a pipe together.

"Perfect," Rosie said with a smile, pushing up her sleeves and getting to work.

...

Michael woke up as the sun hit his face, feeling like a carriage had rolled over him. Twice.

He was in a shop, from the look of things, and had a vague recollection of a woman with bright red hair and an accent he couldn't quite place. Michael remembered his weep and wail all too clearly, and the realisation that he could love everyone still sat firmly in his chest.

Blinking and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Michael looked around once more and saw Gilly sitting on the stool beside him. A sparkling fabric covered the tears that had been in the original fabric, but it was sewed in such a way that made it look as though the giraffe originally had the star-filled skin beneath their plain spotted one. Feeling breathless at the idea, Michael looked at his own hand and wondered what lay beneath his skin.

Seeing a note below Gilly, Michael slipped it out to read in the sunlight that was getting brighter with every passing moment.

_ Michael, _

_ Georgie's giraffe is fixed. _

_ Your only payment is love. _

_ Good luck. _

_ Topsy _

A scrap of material fell from the note, twirling and sparkling, and Michael caught it before it fell to the ground entirely. Opening his hand, he saw it was a piece of the sparkling fabric in the shape of a heart. Tucking it into his breast pocket carefully, Michael picked up Gilly and walked out into the cool morning day to make his way home.

...

Jack finished the last of his and Angus' rounds and had spent the last ten minutes riding around the London streets in an attempt to find Michael without any sense of direction as to where he might have gone.

He rode past a familiarly unfamiliar lane, then stopped abruptly as he realised what that meant. Turning and riding back, Jack's heart almost stopped when he saw Michael walking out of the lane that housed Topsy's shop, Gilly clutched in his hands. Michael lifted a hand to ward off the direct sunlight, even as Jack got off his bike and moved to hug him firmly.

_He'd forgive him even without an apology_ , Jack thought, just so utterly glad to find Michael alive and safe that nothing else mattered right then.

"Oh, not too tight. Please, I'll throw up," Michael groaned, vodka clinging to his insides and fighting to make its way back out.

"Sorry, dove. Are you all right? Where have you been?" Jack asked.

He recognised the starry-eyed expression from being around Mary Poppins or one of her relatives and wondered what Topsy had done or said for Michael to look so shellshocked.

"I... I was in a shop and Topsy, I think that was her name, at least, fixed Gilly for me. Among other things," Michael admitted, rubbing his chest.

"Let's get you home; you can tell me all about it on our way back," Jack promised, picking his bike up and patting the seat for Michael to sit on.

"You don't mind if I sleep on your back instead, do you?" Michael asked, even as he climbed up behind Jack and curled an arm around his waist.

"Never. Hold on tight, dove."

Even as Michael's hold on him tightened, Jack couldn't help but feel like that was the first time he'd truly breathed since that morning.

The streets were silent as he pedalled home, and Michael's body pressed against his was all Jack needed at that moment.

"Jack?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

The words felt like a physical force slamming into Jack but he couldn't stop pedalling. He swallowed hard at the two words and squeezed Michael's hand around his waist. "I know, dove."

Michael had been holding his breath and let it out in a long shuddering breath then, pressing a kiss between Jack's shoulder blades.

"Almost home," Jack said as he saw Cherry Tree Lane down the road. "I called a friend to look after the children, so they're not alone," he added.

"I thought Angus was sick?"

"He is. His girlfriend, Rosie, agreed to look after the children," Jack said. "I've known Rosie since I was a boy."

"Oh?"

"She was an apprentice chimney sweep, like me and Angus. No one knew she was a girl for months, not 'til Mary Poppins came along."

"Did she stay an apprentice after that?" Michael asked curiously.

"O'course she did. She was faster than all of us, and didn't have to get over a fear of small places like some. Besides, Mary Poppins would've taught the sweep a lesson he'd never forget."

Michael could only imagine.

"Rosie's the one who got us our leerie jobs; she strong-armed several people into giving the lamplighter jobs to us chimney sweeps seeing as we were already dirty, or so she says," Jack said with a laugh, slowing to a stop in front of number 17.

The Admiral's cannon shot off, Big Ben sounding in the distance, and before Michael could open the gate, his front door opened and a short brunette shot out, glaring at his neighbour.

"What on earth do you think you're doing? Firing a cannon at this time o' the morning is damn indecent and you should be ashamed! It's five and there's babies trying to sleep!" Rosie yelled up at the Admiral.

_Mr. Binnacle had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, or perhaps he was hiding behind the Admiral_ , Michael mused.

The Admiral looked down from his roof in surprise, frowning at the woman. "Who are you, then?"

"Doesn't matter who I am, what matters is you firing a damn cannon at five in the morning!"

The Admiral's cheeks went pink and he coughed. "Well... no one's complained before."

"That's because you have a ruddy cannon on your roof! You'll keep it to a decent hour or I'll come 'round there myself, you hear?!"

"Yes, ma'am," the Admiral said, snapping a salute at her firm tone.

"Thank you. Now, Jack, you going to introduce me, or is this the way your man's going to meet me, yelling at his neighbours?"

_It was like a younger version of Mary Poppins, except... well, human seemed to be a fitting word_ , though it startled Michael to think of Mary Poppins as not human.

"Right, sorry, Rosie," Jack said quickly. "Michael, this is Rosie. Rosalind, this is Michael," he introduced.

Rosie raised an eyebrow at the use of her full name, but turned to Michael and smiled sweetly. "Lovely to meet you, Michael. Come inside and help me finish with the kitchen, would you? Oh, and I've told the mop to behave, so no worries on that end."

Michael looked at Jack in concern, even as he was guided inside and following the smaller woman to his kitchen, Gilly still in hand.

  
...

End of the eighth chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	9. Chapter 9

Annabel woke up thinking there was something odd, but not knowing what it was. Looking over to the nursery clock, she saw it was seven in the morning. She sat up straight in a panic on realising there was no cannon from the Admiral. Instead, she could hear birds chirping outside the window. Getting out of bed, Annabel ran over to the window and opened it, leaning out to check if the Admiral and Mr. Binnacle were all right.

Mr. Binnacle was using a telescope to check their kitchen window, and Annabel looked down curiously. She could see a robin in its nest by the window, but couldn't see inside.

"Do you think it's a decent hour now, Admiral?" Mr. Binnacle asked.

"We've missed it now; the next one will be decent, Mr. Binnacle," the Admiral said confidently.

The twittering of the birds and lack of a firing cannon woke her brothers up, and Annabel closed the windows, rushing downstairs with John and Georgie on her heels.

Annabel opened the kitchen door and saw a brunette woman arguing with the mop. Jack was under the kitchen sink, though the wrench was no longer holding the pipe together, and her father was nowhere in sight.

"Father fell asleep painting again," John whispered.

Annabel winced at the thought of their father covered in paint. _At least he didn't have to work today_.

"Oh, good. You're awake. Annabel, John, and Georgie, if I'm not mistaken? I'm Rosie, Angus and Jack's friend."

Georgie wiggled and squeezed his way between his siblings to get into the kitchen and see who had been talking. His mouth dropped as he looked up at the brunette lady. "Do you know Mary Poppins?"

"I met her when I was younger and shorter," Rosie said with a grin. "Jack, how's that pipe coming along?"

"Almost done, Rosie."

"We called the plumbers for that," Annabel said with a frown.

"Sometimes you need to know how to fix things yourself," Rosie said, winking.

"Or how to delegate," Jack muttered.

"Can you show me?" John asked eagerly, stepping forward.

"Breakfast first, then plumbing. Your father is still sleeping so you'll have to eat your pancakes quietly, understood?" Rosie asked.

All three children nodded solemnly, far too excited about the idea of pancakes. _They hadn't had them in two years!_

"Good. Now, John, plates and cutlery in the dining room, Annabel, you can take the glasses, and Georgie, you carry the napkins."

They rushed to do their tasks as fast and quiet as possible, the smell of pancakes wafting through the kitchen as Rosie spooned more of the mixture into the frying pan.

...

Michael woke up with a start, the Admiral's cannon sounding and a persistent knock at the front door. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Michael stood and stumbled over to the front door, opening it with a slight frown. The last time he'd had someone knocking on his door quite so persistently, the bank had tried to take his home.

"G'morning, Mr. Banks. We're here for the pipes."

_What pipes?_ Michael thought to himself, still sleepy and blinking at the two men in confusion.

"Ah, you're finally awake. And you two are late. You said you'd be here by ten and it's almost twelve!"

Michael really had no idea what was going on and stepped back to let the short brunette handle whatever was happening.

After a few minutes, the plumbers entered the house sheepishly, and Rosie guided Michael to the dining room. He couldn't hear anything from Ellen in the kitchen or the children and started to stand on the realisation. Rosie put a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated.

"It's all right, Michael. Ellen's taken the children to the park. Jack's upstairs sleeping; you need some food in you and then you can go join him."

"All right. Thank you. Why's Ellen in the park?"

Rosie's lips pursed. "She thought I was tryin' to steal her job. I'm just fixing things while I'm here. Now you sit and wait. I'll be right back with pancakes for you."

_ Pancakes? _ Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd had them.

Rosie left before he could question her and Michael rested his head on his forearms. Rosie returned with a plate stacked with pancakes and set it in front of him. "Eat and then go upstairs to Jack; he barely slept a wink last night, and spent his and Angus' routes worrying about you. He'll be needing you nearby if he's to sleep proper."

Wondering just what Rosie knew about his relationship with Jack, Michael ate his pancakes. Surprised by the flavour and taste - _he thought they'd used the last of their flour ration last week_ \- he commented on the pancakes, thanking Rosie for cooking before eating another mouthful.

"It's mashed banana and eggs. No flour required. I'll write the recipe down once I've dealt with these plumbers. If they undo Jack's hard work, I'll show 'em where they can put their wrenches. Right, upstairs and to sleep with you," Rosie said firmly, taking Michael's empty plate and going back to the kitchen.

Deciding that following her order was the best course of action, Michael left the dining area and headed upstairs. Opening the bedroom door quietly, he saw Jack asleep on the bed. Making his way into the room, he closed the door behind him and started to change into his pyjamas.

"I'm awake, Michael."

"Oh! Right. Of course. I was just getting changed," Michael said, feeling awkward and nervous. "The plumbers are here. Rosie's dealing with them."

Jack laughed. "I doubt they've had anyone quite like Rosie deal with them before. They'll be smarting for a week."

"Yes, I imagine so. She's something, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is. It's why all us sweeps loved her at one stage or another. I even fought Angus over her when we were younger."

"Really?"

"I was sixteen, I thought it was love," Jack said, propped up on his side and watching as Michael took his shirt off and slipped his trousers off.

"Everyone thinks that at sixteen," Michael said with a grin, climbing into bed naked and kissing Jack eagerly.

"I know what love feels like now," Jack murmured, curling a hand around Michael's hardening cock.

"Hmm, in love with someone, are you?" Michael asked, slipping his hand into Jack's trousers and stroking his cock in well-practised movements.

Jack shoved his trousers off, kicking his ankles to free them from the bunched material. They took a moment to cover their hands in oil, silence blissful around them. He didn't bother responding as Michael started to make out with him, tongue and teeth, their hands wrapped around each other's cocks and stroking in random patterns. Michael thrust his hips up against Jack's hand, his moan muffled by Jack's mouth. Jack hooked his leg over Michael's hip, drawing him closer and changing the angle of their strokes.

"I love you, Michael. In case that wasn't obvious," Jack murmured against his neck, panting hard as Michael squeezed his cock.

Michael felt like his heart was afloat in his chest, and revelled in the feeling for a moment, kissing Jack wherever he could reach. "I love you, too, Jack. Now concentrate," he groaned, hitching his hips.

Jack moved so he could kiss Michael properly, squeezing around his cock with nimble fingers. "Bossy."

Michael wanted to take his time, wanted to roll Jack on his back so he could ride him like a carousel horse, but there were people downstairs and his children were due home any minute. The sooner they got each other off, the sooner they could actually sleep, and he wouldn't be at risk of being caught by anyone. It did add a certain thrill to it all, though.

Jack's orgasm was punched out of him, leaving him breathless and weightless and yet Michael continued to stroke his cock. Focusing his attention on Michael's cock rather than stars, Jack teased and stroked until Michael saw stars as well. He wondered if he should mention that they weren't technically on the bed any more, but they started to sink back down to the mattress a moment later.

"I'll get a cloth," Jack said, kissing Michael's mouth and standing on shaky legs to go to the en-suite.

Michael lifted his head and watched as Jack walked into the bathroom, his arse peeking out from under his pyjama shirt and making for a delectable sight. His cock twitched valiantly at the sight but Michael's exhaustion was too heavy and he was asleep before Jack returned.

Jack cleaned Michael's oily hand and cock, wiping off the damp mess on his stomach, and gently tugged his pyjamas on. The children tried to knock before entering but sometimes forgot and they'd almost scarred poor Georgie last time. Tugging his own pyjamas on, Jack went back to his side of the bed and curled an arm around Michael to keep him in place and no longer snoring.

Feeling as though he could finally relax with Michael here in his arms, Jack pressed a kiss to his hair and settled down to sleep.

...

"Angus is picking up three of my days this week. He's finally better; Rosie looked after him better than that doctor did," Jack said in a mix of relief and frustration.

"I'm sure Angus preferred Rosie," Michael said with a brief smile. "Which days did Angus take?"

"Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I was thinking we could take the children to the beach ourselves this time," Jack said eagerly.

"Dying to see those mermaids, aren't you?" Michael teased, kissing Jack.

"And you in your togs. But also the mermaids. Half fish, half woman, what other things does man love?"

Michael laughed. "Imagine if it was the other way around?"

"Hmm?"

"Top half-fish, bottom half-woman," he explained, sketching out the ridiculous figure on a notepad.

"That's an unfortunate looking mermaid," Jack said, eyes wide. He kissed Michael's cheek before leaving to say goodnight to the children.

Michael cleaned his brushes and put his painting things away, heading upstairs just as Jack finished tucking the children in. He said good night to the children as well, kissing foreheads and cheeks as they started to fall asleep. Out on the landing, Michael curled an arm around Jack to hug him, doing an awkward swaying dance into the bedroom, closing the door behind them and humming under his breath.

"You're in a good mood," Jack said, pleased and hugging Michael in return.

"The beach will take one day. What about the other two?" Michael asked, hands slipping lower to Jack's trousers.

"You were saying the other day how Jane and Henrietta wanted to see more of the children. Would a day and night suffice? We can pick them up the following day, around brunch... or lunch... dinner? How about two days?" Jack groaned as Michael squeezed him over his trousers.

"We could make it three and skip the beach entirely," Michael suggested with a grin.

"Um... I just told the children about it. There was a whole song and dance involved," Jack added.

Michael laughed. "Of course there was. Did you tell them three days?"

"No, I left that part out," Jack said with a small amount of relief, moving to sit on the trunk at the end of the bed and tugging Michael onto his lap.

"Thank god for small mercies," Michael said, kissing Jack deeply and straddling his hips, grinding down.

"Jesus, cycle, you're going to kill me," Jack hissed softly, far too aware of the fact the children were still on the verge of sleep. One loud noise and they'd be awake in an instant.

"Nonsense. That's far too much work for a lazy artist like me."

"You work in a bank."

"Only sometimes."

Jack lost track of the conversation and held Michael's hips tightly, keeping him seated. Michael kissed Jack eagerly, hand slipping into his trousers to bring his cock out. Jack groaned against Michael's mouth, the noise swallowed, and undid Michael's trousers, cupping his arse.

" _Daddy! Gilly's flying!_ "

"Fuck," Michael breathed, slipping off Jack's lap and doing his trousers up as he headed to the nursery and willed his erection down.

Jack clutched the trunk beneath him and tried to control his breathing.

Michael returned a few minutes later, running a hand through his hair, and closing the door behind him firmly. "Sorry, dove. He threw Gilly and managed to get him on top of the bookcase." Michael wondered how Georgie had managed to land Gilly so precisely on all four legs, no less, but then decided he had a more important goal in mind.

Jack didn't doubt that Gilly had flown onto the bookcase himself, especially after being fixed by Topsy Turvey, and decided to show Georgie a few giraffe wrangling techniques in the morning. He watched Michael as he stripped out of his trousers, obviously eager to return to their previously-interrupted activity.

"Now, where were we?" Michael murmured, sitting on Jack's lap again and kissing him eagerly.

He was determined to ride Jack like a carousel horse and grinned at the thought.

...

  
End of the ninth chapter.

Hope you liked it!


	10. Chapter 10

"Do you think they know?" Henrietta asked in a whisper, sliding her hand up and under the back of Jane's shirt and teasing at her bared skin.

Jane, who was watching the children draw and colour, glanced back to Henrietta in confusion. "Hmm?"

"The kids; do you think they know what their father and Jack are doing?" Henry asked with a grin, slowly sliding her fingertips up the curve of Jane's spine.

Jane giggled. "God, I hope not."

"Do you think they'll notice if we leave?" she asked, her hand dipping lower to cup Jane's pert arse.

"Oh! Of course, they will," she hissed, regretting that it was true, even as Henry's hand left her body.

"Hmm, shame," Henrietta murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to Jane's cheek as she passed by to help Georgie with his giraffe drawing.

Jane loved her niece and nephews dearly, but in that very moment, she wished they were anywhere but here. Forcing herself to smile when Annabel looked over curiously at her soft sigh, Jane stepped closer to the table to help as well.

_Tomorrow, she was going to sit on Henry and make her pay for teasing her like this. With her hands or mouth, or perhaps both_.

...

Rosie had done everything she could to stave off the impending wave of feelings that sought to drown her. She had cleaned everything in sight and cooked everything their rations allowed and fixed pipes and talked down an Admiral. Angus was well and out on his rounds, a little slower than normal, but still a far cry better than he had been. She had been awake for nearly three days straight, and it was catching up to her.

Deciding to nap while Angus was on his morning rounds, Rosie went to his room and curled up on his freshly made bed. She fell into a fitful sleep where the rattling of Angus' chest became the rattling of bones. Nightmares plagued her until she woke abruptly on hearing the front door slam.

"Rosie?" Angus called, stopping in the doorway to see her on his bed, her eyes wide and white knuckles fist in the sheets. "Are you okay?"

Rosie shook her head and burst into tears. Angus dropped his hat and rushed forward, gathering her in his arms.

"Tell us your weep and wail, flower," he murmured against her hair as she sobbed on his chest.

Rosie couldn't bring herself to talk. She knew it was just a nightmare, and that Angus was alive and well, but that fear would always be with her. When she was finally out of tears and her body stopped trembling, Rosie curled her arms around Angus and pulled him into the bed with her, tucking herself against his chest.  "I just want you to hold me while we sleep. I'll tell you later, okay?"

"Okay, flower," Angus said with a bright smile, glad his Rosie was giving orders and back to her usual self. He hated to see her cry.

He kissed her fully, hand cupping her cheek, before settling down beside her and holding her firmly against his chest. _If he could do only this to make her feel better, then he'd do the best he could_.

"Love you, flower."

"Love you. Now shut up and sleep."

Angus grinned. "Yes, Mistress."

She swatted at him playfully and opened an eye to glare. Angus laughed, kissed her once more, and shifted so Rosie was resting on top of his chest.

The sound of his heart was steady and firm, and Rosie loved the sound better than anything else in the whole world.

A firm and decisive knock at the front door woke them both a few hours later. They recognised the knock and Rosie ran to the front door to greet Mary Poppins, surprised at her sudden reappearance. Opening the door wide, Rosie frowned on seeing the empty doorway and looked down as the wind curled around her toes.

A small basket was sitting on their front step with an elephant ornament nestled in a soft blanket and, most importantly, a bottle of medicine.

Picking up the basket, Rosie looked at the note tied with brown string and almost dropped the basket entirely. Remembering the medicine, she gripped it tightly instead and glanced down to her stomach.

"Flower? What is it?" Angus asked, skidding into the kitchen to see Rosie standing there in the morning light, almost like she was glowing.

"Mary Poppins sent us a gift. Medicine for you, elephant for me, and a blanket for our baby."

Rosie watched as the words settled over Angus slowly, his mind still sleepy, grinning when realisation dawned.

"Baby?"

Rosie nodded, smiling. "Baby."

Angus gave a whooping cry of delight, rushing forward to hug her tight and press a hundred kisses to her face.

"Now, let's go back to bed and we'll celebrate."

Angus kisses her once more. "Gladly, flower. I'm calling everyone we know and telling them. Later," he added when she raised an eyebrow.

"Good boy. Now, take me to bed and let's make sure Mary Poppins was right."

Angus set the basket down on the bench, picked Rosie up, and ran back to their room, intent on following her instruction as many times as he could.

...

Henrietta took her punishment from Jane in the early hours of the morning, their traded words of love and lust soft and quiet so they wouldn't wake the children. Jane slipped off Henrietta with jelly-like legs, slipping under the covers and kissing her firmly, hands caressing and fingers curling.

"Love you, Henry," Jane whispered, her voice almost a groan as Henry's talented fingers teased her.

"I like you, Jane. A lot," Henrietta added, smiling against the curve of Jane's neck as her head tilted back and gave her more access.

A soft cry was silenced by lips and Jane's noises were swallowed, hidden from the outside world. Jane liked the idea of Henrietta keeping all of her noises in a safe space within her, filling her body with her love.

Henrietta held Jane as she brought her to the edge and tipped her over in a long motion, crashing down and flying high all at the same time. Panting heavily against Jane's damp skin, Henrietta curled her arm around Jane and pulled her closer. Jane stroked Henry's back gently as they both fell asleep, entwined in each other's arms.

Three hours later, Georgie announced he was awake with a loud squeal of laughter, even as Annabel and John hurried to shush him. Jane sat up, hair sticking up, and looked to the closed door on realising she wasn't dressed for company of any kind, especially not the kind involving tiny humans. Slipping out of bed, Jane dressed and tamed her hair the best she could before going out to see the children. Henrietta woke up slowly in the morning and was still in bed when a gust of wind seemed to rattle the house itself. Getting up and dressed seemed important at that moment, and as she stepped out of their bedroom, there was a firm and decisive knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" John called, still taking his duties as the eldest man seriously.

"It's my home, silly. I'll answer it, you keep eating your breakfast," Jane said, stepping around the table to answer the door. "Oh."

"Is everything all right?" Henrietta asked, walking over to check.

"It's a kite," Jane said, grabbing the string that was looped around the handle of a basket. "There's a note. Oh, it's from Mary Poppins!"

The children were stunned into silence for the whole of three seconds, then rushed over to see for themselves.

Georgie had a bottle of bath bubbles, John a book of the world and seemingly every answer to every question he could ever ask, and Annabel had a small coin purse that felt empty when she held it but certainly wasn't when she opened it.

" _Take care of each other. Mary Poppins_."

"If the children get all of that, who does the kite belong to?" Henrietta asked.

"It's ours," Jane said, sounding as excited as the children.

Henrietta could love her for that joy and excitement alone.

...

Michael woke up with Jack's arm wrapped around him, the weight solid and comforting. Daylight filtered through the curtains and through the gap, he could see the wind blowing cherry tree petals around in a swirl. He tried to commit it to memory, determined to paint it later.

"Michael?"

"Yes, dove?" he asked, kissing Jack gently, his mouth still tender.

"You're thinking too loud, cycle. I can't sleep," Jack groused, even as he chased Michael's lips.

Michael's response was muffled and forgotten over the next few minutes of lazy kisses. They were both naked simply because they could be, and Michael loved the feel of his body pressed against Jack's.

"I love you," he breathed against Jack's neck.

"I love you, too. I'd love you even more if you could reach the oil," Jack said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Michael couldn't help but laugh, reaching over Jack to get the oil.

Three hours later, Michael woke from his dozing state to hear the doorbell ring in a particular rhythm. It wasn't the children since they weren't due until the next morning, but the pattern was familiar in some way. As he mused on it, Jack sat up in bed abruptly, almost knocking Michael our entirely.

"It's Mary Poppins! Hurry, where are my trousers?" Jack asked.

Michael was out of bed in a shot, both men getting dressed as fast as they possibly could, Michael hopping into his trousers as Jack tried to button his shirt on the way downstairs. Jack opened the door, an apology already on his lips for keeping the nanny waiting, only to find the doorway empty.

"Is she here?" Michael asked, pressed up against Jack to look over his shoulder and out the door.

"No. I swear it was her knock, and... " Jack trailed off as the wind curled around his toes, prompting him to look down and see the basket sitting on the step.

Michael moved to the side so he could see as well, frowning at the basket. "What's in it?"

Jack picked the basket up, glancing to the note and seeing Mary Poppins' name, just as he had expected. The basket, however, had nothing he had expected. "It's from Mary Poppins all right. This is for you," he said, handing a mug decorated in hundreds of balloons to Michael.

"I needed a new mug for my brushes. How did she know?" Michael asked, then realised the futility of the question and shook his head. "What did you get?"

Jack looked into the basket, taking out a piece of sparkling and shiny material, as though it contained galaxies. In the corner, a small piece was missing, and Jack and Michael both looked closer to see it was a heart.

Michael's eyes widened and he grabbed at his chest, patting himself a few times before putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out the small scrap of material Topsy had given to him. A heart, fitting exactly in the space on Jack's material, and his fingers were steady as he placed it in the material.

The world around them faded, replaced by the universe with stars and planets.

Michael laughed, wondrous and incredulous, and looked around them in amazement. "Is this real?"

Jack smiled and kissed his hand, squeezing gently. "It's as real as we make it, dove. Let me show you the stars?"

Michael looked at Jack, the universe around them, and felt magic taking hold in his heart, just like it had when he was a child and a nanny had blown in on the wind. "All right, Jack. I'm ready to see the stars with you."

...

Mary Poppins knew it wouldn't last long. Jack wouldn't forget, of course; that had been her special gift to him as a child and she knew that one day he would hate her for not letting him forget. Michael would take a few months or perhaps even a year, but eventually, he would think back on this day with fond amusement at nothing more than an avid imagination. It had taken a favour or two from Topsy to have her open her shop so often and fix human emotional problems rather than simply their belongings, but it had been worth it in the end.

Jane would be happy with Henrietta every day, even on the days when neither woman was happy, and she would both love and be loved in the way she needed and deserved. Henrietta would say the words in her own time, just as all did, on a day that would be both ordinary and special at the same time. _Maybe a second Wednesday_.

Annabel would grow up to work in the same bank her father and grandfather had worked in, her mind for money bringing her a steady income and happiness in its own way, her small coin purse a good luck charm when all but the last grain of magic faded from memory. John would go on to be an architect, creating buildings with a hint of magic in every design that no other architect would be able to recreate, his work celebrated and loved throughout the world. Georgie would follow in his father's footsteps, his life full of art and family, with two children of his own and when it was the right time, Mary Poppins would fly in on an East wind to help the Banks children, just as she always would.

...

  
The end.

Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed the story!


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